' 


I 


$  THE  * 
MEDIATOR 

ED\VARD  A*  STEINER 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Ben  B.  Lindsey 


THE   MEDIATOR 


The        Works       of 
EDWARD    STEINER 

On  the  Trail  of  the 
Immigrant 

"  A  more  valuable  contribution  to  the  litera 
ture  of  the  vital  question  of  immigration 
could  hardly  be  imagined.  No  American 
citizen  can  fail  to  gain  in  appreciation  of  its 
importance  by  reading  this  work  by  a  keen 
and  sympathetic  observer." — The  Interior. 
Illustrated,  net  1.50. 

The  Mediator 

A  Tale  of  The  Old  World  and 
the  New. 

Dr.  Steiner  has  an  unerring  literary  instinct 
and  writes  with  an  intensity  of  temperament, 
heightened  be  experience.  One  cannot  but 
think  hard  as  he  brings  his  passionate  Jew 
boy  from  Russian-Poland  through  the  Cath 
olic  monastery,  up  to  the  American  ideals, 
and  finally  through  the  crisis  of  his  romance 
in  the  new  world.  ....  1.50. 

Tolstoy  the  Man 

A  Biographical  Interpretation,  Re 
vised  and  Enlarged. 

"  Perhaps  the  most  conspicuous  effort  to 
throw  absolutely  correct  light  upon  Russia's 
great  thinker  and  writer,  and  the  truest, 
fairest  and  most  sane  study  that  has  yet  been 
made." — Philadelphia  Record. 
Illustrated,  ....  net  1.50. 


THE  MEDIATOR 

A  Tale  of  the  Old 
World  and  the  New 


BY 
EDWARD  A.  STEINER 

Author  of  "  On  the  Trail  of  the  Immigrant ' 


NEW  YORK  CHICAGO  TORONTO 

Fleming  H.   Revell   Company 

LONDON  AND  EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  80  Wabash  Avenue 
Toronto:  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


PS 

35-37 


To  the  memory  of  my 

Beloved  Mother 
JEANETTE   HELLER  STEINER, 
who  was  widowed  in  time  of  war,  plague  and 
famine  ;  whose  heroism  and  patience,  whose 
tolerance  and  simple  trust,  were  an  in 
spiration  to  all  who  knew  her  above 
whose    grave    they    truthfully 
wrote :  "  Never  has  a  woman 
suffered  more,  never  was  a 
mother  more  beloved" 


11GS13G 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  HOLY  TOWN  OF  KOTTOWIN       V  9 

IL  THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT  ...  21 

IIL  THE  KOSHER  NURSE  ....  31 

IV.  How  THE  LORD  CALLED  SAMUEL      .  42 

V.  THE  AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN  52 

VI.  DR.  EOSNIK  PRESCRIBES    .        .       .  66 

VII.  THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL       ,        .  76 

VIII.  SAMUEL'S  CHOICE      .        .        .       .  88 

IX.  BROTHER  GREGORIUS         ...  99 

X.  "MACKES"        .        .        ...        .107 

XI  GENUS  AMERICANUS  .        .  .     .        .117 

XTT.  "  AND  A  LITTLE  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD 

THEM"   ....       -.    ,     .  132 

XIII.  THE  ZIONISTS     ,        ...       .146 

XIV.  THE  ANARCHIST         .  155 

XV.  THE  LAND  OF  FRIENDS      .        .        .  165 

XVI.  A  JEWISH  PHARAOH  ....  179 

XVII.  THE  PURSUING  CHRIST      .        .        .190 

XVIII.  His  NAME  WAS  LOVE         .       .       .  201 

XIX.  EIVKA  DISCOVERS  AMERICA      .        .  209 

XX.  INCENSE  AND  CHLOROFORM        .        .  219 

XXI.  MORE  "MACKES"      .        .        .   •     .  230 

XXII.  DR.  EOSNIK  PRESCRIBES  AGAIN       .  251 

XXIII.  THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  A  SOUL      »        .  264 

7 


8 


CONTENTS 


XXIY.  THE  MEDIATOR  CHOSEN  . 

XXV.  JANE    .       .  .        . 

XXVI.  THE  ANARCHIST  NUN     . 

XXVII.  EivKA'sGoD  V  ..--•; 

XXVIII.  THE  FEAST  OF  BROTHERS 

XXIX.  THE  DAY  OF  AT-ONE-MENT 


277 
292 
305 
320 
326 
347 


The  Mediator 


THE  HOLY  TOWN  OF  KOTTOWIN 


«f~T"^HE  peace  of  God  be  with  you,  Eeb  Abra 
ham,  the  peace  of  God"  —  almost  joyfully 
-*•  it  was  shouted  at  him,  while  he  gravely 
replied,  "  Peace,  peace  be  with  you." 

The  men  crowded  around  Abraham  Cohen  and 
heartily  shook  his  hand,  forsaking  for  a  moment  the 
bartering  Gentiles  who  had  come  into  the  town  of 
Kottowin  to  celebrate  the  feast  of  Corpus  Christi,  to 
drink  the  healing  waters  from  the  sacred  spring, 
and  to  consume  as  much  vodka  as  they  could  hold, 
little  caring  that  it  came  from  a  very  unholy  source  — 
the  Jewish  innkeeper's  stone  jug. 

The  women  drew  Channah,  Abraham's  wife,  be 
neath  sheltering  doorways  and  whispered  generous 
advice.  Looking  into  her  delicate  face,  over  which 
a  sweet  blush  hovered,  one  could  easily  believe  that 
Channah  deserved  the  reputation  of  having  been  the 
most  beautiful  Jewish  bride  that  ever  came  to  Kot 
towin. 

A  narrow  creek  divided  the  Jewish  town  from  the 
9 


10  THE  MEDIATOE 

sacred  ground  upon  which  the  Christians  had  built 
their  church  and  their  homes — a  crooked,  muddy 
stream,  an  arm  of  a  broader  one.  Over  a  bridge 
spanning  the  larger  stream  the  toll-gate  hung  menac 
ingly,  like  a  huge  scythe  poised  in  air,  ready  to  drop 
upon  the  invader,  were  it  man  or  beast,  who  could 
not  pay  the  toll  of  one  kopek. 

The  little  arm  of  the  creek,  however,  was  like 
the  wide  ocean  which  separates  two  continents.  It 
separated  the  Gentiles'  portion  of  the  town  from  that 
inhabited  by  the  Jews,  the  distance  between  them 
being  made  greater  and  greater  by  mutual  hate  and 
distrust,  and  by  frequent  storms  menacing  both 
coasts  and  often  eating  away  in  a  moment  whatever 
common  standing  ground  had  grown  between. 

Abraham  and  Channah  had  to  cross  the  muddy 
creek,  and  when  they  reached  the  market-place 
where  the  great  church  stands,  the  booming  of  guns, 
the  noise  of  a  brass  band,  and  the  ringing  of  bells 
produced  a  pandemonium  of  sound  which  made  them 
quake  from  fear. 

From  the  portals  of  the  church  came  acolytes 
swinging  their  censers;  behind  them  in  his  festal 
robes  was  the  abbot  of  the  cloister,  walking  beneath 
a  gilded  baldachin,  and  following  him  were  the  clergy 
and  a  great  crowd  of  worshippers  carrying  the  church 
banners  and  singing  praises  to  their  Christ. 

Abraham  and  Channah  hid  in  the  doorway  of  the 
town-hall,  hoping  to  escape  the  lynx  eyes  of  the 


THE  HOLY  TOWN  OF  KOTTOWIN   11 

church  organist,  who  usually  carried  the  image  of 
the  Virgin  and  who  made  it  his  special  business  to 
see  that  every  Jew,  by  taking  off  his  cap,  gave 
proper  greeting  to  the  Queen  of  Heaven. 

Now  the  enemy  came  nearer  and  nearer,  looking 
this  way  and  that  for  his  legitimate  prey — a  Jew's 
head  not  uncovered.  Never  before  in  the  history  of 
the  town  of  Kottowin  had  the  organist  failed  to  dis 
cover  at  least  one  such  offender ;  never  before  had 
he  failed  to  make  the  feast  more  joyful  by  knock 
ing  off  the  offender's  cap,  to  the  amusement  of  the 
worshippers.  This  time,  also,  history  repeated  it 
self. 

"Take  off  that  cap,"  he  shouted  in  a  rage, — but 
Abraham  did  not  remove  it.  "Take  off  that  cap, 
or  I'll  knock  it  off !  " 

Abraham  remained  motionless.  A  blow  upon  his 
head  flung  the  cap  far  into  the  crowd ;  while  the 
guns  boomed,  the  brass  band  blared,  the  church  bells 
rang,  and  the  priests  chanted  their  hymns  of  praise 
to  the  risen  Christ  of  Kottowin. 

Vainly  you  will  search  the  map  for  the  location 
of  Kottowin ;  but  if  you  come  from  afar  and  see  a 
golden  cross  over  the  church  steeple,  which  looks 
like  a  big  onion  with  a  little  one  on  top  of  it,  and 
just  below,  seven  glistening  shafts  which  rise  above 
the  synagogue,  a  Moorish  structure  so  out  of  place 
in  this  Northern  clime — then  you  are  in  sight  of 
Kottowin. 


12  THE  MEDIATOR 

When  you  pass  the  only  two-storey  building  in 
this  region,  where  the  Pany  lives  who  owns  all  the 
soil  within  many  miles ;  when  you  walk  through  the 
double  rows  of  lilacs  which  flank  the  highway  and 
then  pass  over  the  long  bridge  at  one  end  of  which  is 
the  toll-gate  j  when  your  feet  strike  the  rough  pave 
ment,  each  of  its  cobblestones  like  a  miniature  moun 
tain  ;  when  men  buried  in  sheepskin  coats  pass  you 
and,  taking  off  their  broad  hats  in  greeting,  say : 
"  Praised  be  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  the  Virgin 
Mary" — then  you  are  in  the  town  of  Kottowin. 

When  to  the  right  of  you  and  the  left  of  you  are 
little  shops  crowding  one  another,  and  in  the  door 
way  of  each  a  gesticulating  Jew,  inviting  you  to 
bargain  and  to  buy — then  you  are  in  the  Jews'  street 
of  Kottowin,  a  market  town  in  the  district  of  Kot 
towin  in  Poland. 

The  place  has  no  historic  fame,  although  there  is  a 
great  mound  where  lie  buried  Austrian  soldiers  who 
came  here  to  help  Russia  quell  the  Polish  Revolu 
tion  ;  it  has  no  industries  to  carry  its  name  beyond 
the  borders  of  the  district,  although  they  make  boots 
out  of  pigs'  hides, — heavy  working  boots — the  soles 
glued  to  the  top  with  pitch.  Nevertheless,  it  is 
known  far  and  wide  beyond  the  borders  of  Poland, 
— in  Hungary,  Austria,  and  even  Germany — being 
almost  a  household  word  wherever  good  Catholics 
believe  in  healing  waters,  and  wherever  Jews  still 
have  faith  in  the  virtue  of  the  little  scrolls  nailed  to 


THE  HOLY  TOWN  OF  KOTTOWIN         13 

the  door-posts  of  those  houses  inhabited  by  children 
of  the  Covenant,  or  where  they  still  use  phylacteries 
and  wear  the  sacred  fringes  upon  their  garments. 

The  fame  of  Kottowin  rested  itself  entirely  upon 
its  sanctity.  The  Catholics  revered  it  because  of  the 
healing  waters  of  a  miracle-working  spring,  the  Jews 
because  of  the  traditions  handed  down  through  gen 
erations,  and  which  taught  them  how  to  manufacture 
the  sacred  aids  to  Jewish  devotion.  This  fame  was  a 
good  business  asset,  for  pilgrims  came  from  afar  to 
drink  the  waters  and  bathe  in  them.  Here  a  large 
monastery  was  built  and  daily  grew  greater,  while 
hospitable  inns  in  large  numbers  crowded  one  an 
other  on  the  market-place. 

The  Jews  drew  custom  for  their  sacred  wares 
from  hundreds  of  miles  of  surrounding  country,  and 
men  and  women,  burdened  and  perplexed,  came  for 
the  testing  of  their  scruples  and  the  solving  of  their 
riddles  to  the  Eabbi,  who,  because  of  his  peculiar 
sanctity,  could  do  wonders  in  settling  family  quar 
rels,  deciding  great  doctrinal  questions,  and,  by  the 
laying  on  of  hands,  could  heal  all  manner  of  dis 
eases. 

You  certainly  are  not  versed  in  the  affairs  of  Jewry 
if  you  have  not  heard  of  the  Wonder  Eabbi  of  Kot 
towin,  who  bathed  once  a  week,  fasted  each  Tues 
day  and  Friday,  who  never  looked  a  woman  in  the 
face,  and  was  said  to  talk  to  God  as  did  Moses,  the 
great  lawgiver. 


14  THE  MEDIATOE 

The  piety  of  the  town  did  not  affect  any  portion  of 
its  social  structure.  Its  political  dignitaries  were  of 
the  same  calibre  as  are  found  elsewhere  in  Poland  ; 
they  took  from  Csesar  all  that  was  Caesar's,  and  from 
the  people  all  that  the  people  gave.  Its  tradesmen 
fleeced  the  stranger  whenever  there  was  a  chance,  and 
never  let  his  left  hand  know  what  their  right  hand 
did. 

The  Pany  who  owned  all  the  land  was  a  product 
of  Poland's  aristocracy — so  gallant  that  he  could 
never  endure  to  see  women  cry  in  his  presence; 
therefore,  he  turned  them  out  of  doors,  when  he 
had  robbed  them  of  their  virtue  or  of  the  wage 
of  their  sin.  He  hated  idleness  ;  therefore,  he  exer 
cised  himself  by  beating  the  gypsies  who  invaded 
his  estates,  or  by  playing  cards  until  daylight.  He 
believed  strong  drink  to  be  the  worst  thing  in  the 
world ;  therefore,  he  drank  every  drop  he  could  get, 
in  order  to  put  it  outofHhe  world. 

The  church  organist,  school-teacher  and  music 
master,  three  in  one,  who  could  never  play  at  mass 
so  well  as  when  he  was  thoroughly  soaked  in  wine, 
who  knew  every  scandal  because  he  was  at  the  bot 
tom  of  each — these  men  were  just  like  other  men  in 
other  towns  scattered  throughout  the  kingdom. 

But  in  the  religious  sphere  its  men  and  institutions 
were  supreme.  On  one  side,  was  the  Dominican  friar 
who  for  austerity  and  piety  had  no  equal  in  his 
Brotherhood.  On  the  Jewish  side,  to  match  him,  was 


THE  HOLY  TOWN  OF  KOTTOWIN         16 

the  Wonder  Rabbi,  whose  very  name  was  whispered 
in  awe  by  all  Jewry  ;  on  the  Gentile  side,  the  huge 
church,  with  its  wonder-working  spring,  its  gorgeous 
altars,  pictures,  and  banners ;  on  the  other  side,  the 
synagogue,  with  its  seven  shining  minarets,  its  re 
markable  scroll  of  the  law  so  wonderfully  enshrined 
in  embroidered  velvets  and  hung  with  golden  chains 
and  bells.  When  it  was  taken  from  the  Ark,  the 
people  felt  as  if  Jehovah  Himself  were  coming  out 
of  the  darkness  of  Sinai. 

Just  now,  on  the  Jewish  side  at  least,  all  its  in 
terest  centred,  not  on  the  Wonder  Eabbi,  but  on 
Abraham  Cohen,  the  only  surviving  Levite,  who,  be 
cause  of  his  priestly  descent,  could  pronounce  the 
blessing  on  the  great  feast  days. 

There  had  been  no  lack  of  Levites  in  years  gone 
by  ;  a  dozen  or  more  stood  before  the  Ark  in  their 
stocking  feet,  the  long  prayer-mantle  completely  cov 
ering  them,  their  hands  outstretched  in  such  a 
peculiar  manner  that  it  seemed  as  if  two  horns  were 
reaching  out  over  the  heads  of  the  priests.  In  varied 
discord  they  would  pronounce  the  benediction,  dwell 
ing  on  the  last  Amen  as  if  loath  to  let  it  go,  sounding 
each  vowel  again  and  again,  until  with  a  final  effort 
they  centred  all  their  vocal  and  nervous  energy, 
shouting  one  long  "Amen"  while  the  congregation 
took  up  the  cry,  "Amen  and  Amen."  It  sounded 
like  a  battle  cry  ;  but  it  was  the  cry  of  the  van 
quished  and  not  of  the  victors. 


16  THE  MEDIATOB 

The  Levites  dwindled  in  numbers ;  they  died,  and 
their  sons  had  to  go  out  into  the  highways  and  by 
ways  to  buy  and  to  sell,  growing  less  pious  in  the 
measure  in  which  they  were  prospered  by  Jehovah. 
Many  of  them,  instead  of  calling  out  blessings  in 
God's  temple,  as  did  their  fathers,  hurled  maledic 
tions  at  one  another  before  the  altars  of  Mammon, 
in  the  temples  of  trade  of  Budapest  or  Vienna  ;  and 
instead  of  selling  holy  script  they  sold  stocks  and 
bonds. 

Abraham  Cohen  was  the  sole  survivor  of  that 
large  Levitic  band ;  he  was  past  middle  age,  but  as 
yet  he  had  no  son  to  inherit  his  office,  with  its  se 
crets  of  folding  the  hands  to  appear  like  horns  and 
shouting  the  blessing  with  its  staccatos,  with  its 
crescendos  and  diminuendos  in  the  labyrinthine  wind 
ings  of  the  final  Amen.  He  had  been  brought  up  in 
a  Talmudic  atmosphere,  having  begun  to  enter  the 
mazes  of  its  ancient  law  books  when  he  was  five 
years  of  age,  and  his  mind  continually  moved  amid 
their  tortuous  paths.  This  Talmudic  study  robbed 
him  of  the  joys  of  childhood  and  made  him  old  be 
fore  he  was  young  ;  yet  it  bestowed  upon  him  a 
spiritual  heritage  visible  in  his  face  and  form,  a 
heritage  not  possessed  by  those  Jews  of  Kottowin 
whose  backs  were  bent  by  heavy  bundles  of  mer 
chandise  rather  than  by  devotion  to  the  study  of  the 
Talmud.  Its  dogmatic  chains  bound  him  firmly  to 
a  hoary  past,  but  its  wings  gave  freedom  to  his 


THE  HOLY  TOWN  OF  KOTTOWIN        17 

imagination  and  made  him  what  the  Jew  at  his 
best  always  is — at  once  a  realist  and  an  idealist ;  as 
well  as  a  mystic  and  a  rationalist. 

He  was  short,  though  that  shortage  was  neither  of 
his  head  nor  of  his  body,  but  of  his  limbs.  Over  his 
brow  hovered  an  austere  serenity,  and  a  smile  was 
always  striving  with  his  wrinkled  face.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  disfiguring  garb,  the  orthodox  ringlets, 
which  hung  from  his  temples,  the  bent  back  and  shuf 
fling  gait,  Abraham  Cohen  would  have  won  favour  in 
the  eyes  of  all  those  who  looked  at  him.  In  spite  of 
these  handicaps,  he  was  the  most  favoured  Jew  in  Kot- 
towin ;  he  had  many  friends  and  no  enemies  j  even 
the  Gentiles  who  hated  all  Jews  alike  and  were  hated 
by  them  in  return,  called  him  affectionately  "our 
Abraham." 

He  was  extremely  unpractical,  and  Channah,  his 
wife,  a  delicate  woman  of  good  breeding  who  was 
given  to  him  in  marriage  only  on  account  of  his  piety, 
had  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  doing  so  at  the 
expense  of  her  health. 

When  Abraham  rose,  at  four  in  the  morning,  to 
question  the  Oracles  of  Jehovah,  Channah  also  rose, 
wakened  the  maid,  whom  she  assisted  in  preparing 
the  breakfast,  and  then  went  out  to  the  workshop 
where  she  supervised  the  tanning  and  cutting  of  the 
skins  used  in  the  manufacture  of  phylacteries.  With 
painful  patience  Abraham  wrote  the  words  of  Jehovah 
upon  the  parchments ;  but  Channah  had  to  see  that 


18  THE  MEDIATOR 

they  were  put  into  their  proper  casings,  that  they  were 
shipped  to  the  right  addresses,  and  that  the  work 
men  did  their  allotted  tasks. 

Channah  was  the  wife  of  a  saint,  and  she  patiently 
endured  all  the  consequences  of  her  lot.  Her  only 
grief  was  that  she  had  no  son,  a  grief  shared  by  all 
the  pious  Jews  of  Kottowin.  The  Wonder  Eabbi  had 
been  consulted  again  and  again  ;  he  turned  from  book 
to  book,  looking  wise  ;  but  inwardly  he  was  as  per 
plexed  as  Abraham  himself,  who  did  not  know  why 
the  Lord  had  thus  afflicted  him.  The  Eabbi  finally 
decided  to  urge  an  heroic  measure,  namely  :  a  pil 
grimage  to  the  graves  of  the  wise  men  who  are  buried 
in  the  old  cemetery  in  Cracow,  and  who  because  of 
their  superior  wisdom  and  devotion  to  the  law  have 
direct  access  to  Jehovah.  Neither  Abraham  nor 
Channah  had  to  be  urged  to  undertake  the  pilgrimage. 
They  would  have  tried  to  climb  to  the  clouds,  if  by 
so  doing  they  might  have  had  their  request  from  God  ; 
so  while  Channah  ordered  the  affairs  of  the  household 
and  shop,  collected  the  money,  and  cooked  and  baked 
food  for  the  journey,  Abraham  sat  at  his  table  with  a 
new  quill  plucked  from  a  living  goose  and  wrote  his 
request  to  Jehovah.  With  painful  accuracy  each 
letter  was  written,  for  all  had  to  be  perfect ; 
while  every  line  of  light  or  shade  had  to  be  like 
every  other  line,  and  no  erasures  or  spots  dared 
appear  on  so  sacred  a  manuscript.  This  is  what  he 
wrote: 


THE  HOLY  TOWN  OF  KOTTOWIN        19 

"Jehovah,  my  God,  the  God  of  my  fathers  and  the 
God  of  my  people !  Hear,  0  Israel !  The  Lord  thy 
God  is  one  God  !  I  am  sending  this  request  by  the  wise 
men  who  see  Thy  face,  0  Jehovah !  for  they  knew  Thy  law 
and  studied  it  day  and  night ;  Thou  wilt  not  turn  away 
from  their  prayers  in  my  behalf,  who  am  Abraham,  of 
the  tribe  of  Levi,  and  the  last  Cohen  in  the  congregation 
of  the  people  at  Kottowin.  Ghannah,  my  wife,  is  barren 
and  I  will  not  put  her  away  from  me  to  marry  another 
to  bear  me  seed,  that  a  son  might  say  prayers  at  my  grave 
and  speak  the  blessing  before  the  Ark  upon  Thy  people  in 
the  great  congregation.  I  beseech  Thee,  0  Jehovah !  to 
be  merciful  to  Channah  as  Thou  wast  to  Sara,  the  wife  of 
our  father  Abraham,  whose  womb  was  sealed,  and  yet 
who  bare  seed  unto  him  when  she  was  past  age.  Hear 
my  prayer,  0  Jehovah  !  And  grant  unto  me  a  son,  that 
I  go  not  childless  to  my  grave,  and  that  the  Ark  in  which 
Thy  law  rests  remain  not  without  a  priest ! 

u  ABRAHAM,  Thy  faithful  Servant  in 
the  Congregation  of  Kottowin." 

And  Abraham  gave  the  letter  to  Channah  who  laid 
it  upon  her  bosom,  as  the  Eabbi  had  directed.  Then 
they  started  on  their  pilgrimage,  so  rudely  interrupted 
by  the  organist. 

All  things  must  end ;  even  the  Christians'  proces 
sion  with  its  sea  of  banners,  each  one  a  bitter  eye 
sore  ;  with  its  incense  which  Abraham  did  not  dare 
breathe,  fearing  that  every  breath  would  pollute  him  ; 


20  THE  MEDIATOE 

with  its  multitude  of  pious  worshippers  solemnly  and 
slowly  moving  along,  too  often  stopping  to  kneel  in 
prayer. 

All  things  end,  and  this  torture  ended  also.  Abra 
ham  took  the  hand  of  Channah,  his  wife,  and  they 
crossed  the  bridge  where  the  toll-gate  is,  and  walking 
between  the  hedges  where  the  lilacs  were  just  burst 
ing  into  bloom,  purified  themselves  in  the  rich  per 
fume  of  their  incense.  The  birds,  singing  their  love- 
songs,  made  the  two  forget  the  chants  of  priests  and 
acolytes,  and  the  smile  which  had  long  been  striving 
with  Abraham's  wrinkled  face,  shone  from  a  new 
touch  of  hope  above  the  furrows  of  care,  as  with 
clasped  hands  he  and  Channah  walked  joyously  into 
the  beckoning  spring. 


n 

THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT 

NATURE  does  not  consider  the  mood  of  pious 
souls,  and  the  Day  of  Atonement  dawned 
bright  and  beautiful  over  the  holy  town  of 
Kottowin,  quite  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  with  the 
Jews  it  was  a  day  of  fasting,  of  mourning  and  of  wail 
ing,  and  that  it  seemed  purposely  created  to  blot  out 
the  short  span  of  human  joy  which  creeps  into  the 
Jewish  calendar  at  this  season  of  the  year.  It  comes 
upon  the  heels  of  the  New  Year's  day,  which  is  cele 
brated  when  nature  is  heavy  from  the  blessings  of  the 
season,  when  the  notes  of  joyous  psalms  and  of  the 
ram's  horn  and  the  taste  of  good  things  to  eat  still 
linger  in  the  ear  and  upon  the  palate.  It  comes  bid 
ding  men  put  on  grave-clothes,  while  fields  and  gar 
dens  are  rioting  in  colour ;  it  shuts  from  mind  and 
soul  the  vanities  of  life,  when  each  breath  of  air  makes 
one  tremble  from  the  mere  joy  of  living,  and  com 
mands  the  sealing  of  the  mouth  to  food  and  drink,  at 
that  season  of  the  year  when  the  land  is  * '  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey." 

Crowded  in  unpicturesque  confusion  close  to  the 
synagogue,  with  its  shining  minarets,  lived  the  mem 
bers  of  the  Jewish  community,  far  famed  for  their 

21 


22  THE  MEDIATOK 

piety ;  and  this  day,  the  day  of  all  days,  marked  the 
zenith  of  their  scrupulous  devotion  to  the  letter  of  the 
law.  The  fire  on  the  hearth  was  dead  everywhere 
and  no  smoke  escaped  from  any  of  the  chimneys,  ex 
cept  as  it  rose  lingeringly  over  the  home  of  Abraham 
and  Channah  ;  those  who  saw  it,  knew  that  it  spelled 
illness. 

Close  by  the  synagogue  it  stood,  a  straw  thatched 
cottage,  void  of  all  external  beauty,  and  within  void 
also  of  most  of  the  comforts  of  life.  The  little  garden 
around  the  home  looked  neglected  and  the  plums  on 
the  straggly  trees  were  stung  and  gnarled,  for  he  who 
studied  the  law  of  God  in  the  books  only  knew  noth 
ing  of  its  workings  in  nature,  and  had  never  learned 
to  be  conscious  of  the  fact  that,  as  of  old,  so  even  now, 
Jehovah  was  in  the  burning  bush.  Within  the  little 
house  there  were  sweetness  and  neatness,  for  Channah 
was  known  far  and  wide  as  one  who  looked  "Well  to 
the  ways  of  her  household"  j  so  while  an  odour  of 
leather  permeated  the  atmosphere,  there  mingled  with 
it  the  scent  of  strong  soap,  and  one  became  immedi 
ately  conscious  of  the  royal  battle  between  the  two. 
Against  the  wall  stood  two  beds  filling  that  side  of 
the  room  ;  a  huge  tiled  stove  occupied  one  end,  while 
corresponding  with  it,  at  the  other  end,  was  a  sofa 
whose  palmy  days  were  of  yore,  and  whose  ribs  pro 
truded  like  those  of  Pharaoh's  lean  kine.  Over  the 
sofa  hung  two  paintings  whose  presence  there  cost 
much  grief  to  Abraham  and  Channah  alike.  They 


THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT  23 

were  portraits  of  her  parents,  and  she  insisted  upon 
their  being  in  the  home,  not  because  they  were  the 
likenesses  of  her  father  and  mother, — for  they  resem 
bled  them  only  in  the  faintest  degree, — but  because 
they  were  pictures  and  were  surrounded  by  huge  gold 
frames,  which  gave  the  room  its  one  touch  of  colour. 

Abraham  strongly  objected  to  them  on  those  very 
grounds;  they  were  pictures  in  gold  frames  and 
might  lead  Channah's  thoughts  to  impiety  and  vanity. 
His  real  objection  to  them  was  that  they  reminded 
him  of  the  comfort  and  luxury  from  which  he  had 
taken  Channah,  that  they  emphasized  the  poverty  of 
the  room,  the  discomfort  and  struggle  in  Channah's 
life,  and  his  own  share  in  making  that  life  so  hard. 
The  study  of  the  law  covered  a  multitude  of  sins ;  yet 
he  was  quite  conscious  of  the  fact  that  it  did  not  cover 
all  of  them. 

On  the  day  of  Atonement  Abraham  had  risen  early 
and  soon  stood  before  Channah's  bed  with  a  cup  of 
steaming  coffee,  the  odour  of  which  did  not  tend  to 
lessen  his  own  desire  for  food.  "  Drink,  Channah  ;  I 
have  asked  the  Eabbi  whether  you  might  have  food 
to-day,  and  he  said  that  Eabbi  Eliezer,  when  asked  the 
same  question  by  one  of  his  followers,  replied  thus  : 
'  A  woman  may  not  eat  or  drink  anything  on  the  Day 
of  Atonement,  but  every  child  must  be  fed  as  often  as 
it  needs  food  even  on  this  holy  day.'  Now,  Channah, 
my  life,  this  coffee  is  not  for  you ;  it  is  for  the  little 
Cohen  who,  not  long  hence,  if  God  please  (blessed  be 


24  THE  MEDIATOE 

His  name !  ),  will  clamour  for  food."  Imitating  the 
cry  of  a  little  babe,  he  forced  the  cup  into  Channah's 
hand  and  she  drank  the  warm  beverage,  while  her 
pale  cheeks  quickly  responded  to  it  by  a  gentle  glow. 

Yes,  indeed,  God  had  been  good  to  both  of  them  ; 
that  journey  to  Cracow  had  been  the  most  wonderful 
event.  Fifty  miles  they  walked  to  the  station,  and 
there  for  the  first  time  they  travelled  on  a  railroad. 
What  an  epoch  in  their  lives !  To  see  those  telegraph 
poles  fly  past  their  car  window  and  yet  remain  sta 
tionary  ;  to  see  the  towns  and  villages  one  after  an 
other  in  such  quick  succession,  and  finally  to  walk 
beneath  the  huge  gates  of  Cracow  out  into  the  mazes 
of  the  Ghetto  ;  and  then  to  enter  that  wonderful  syn 
agogue  and  the  great  cemetery  !  Abraham  did  not 
neglect  to  throw  Channah's  letter  upon  the  grave  of 
the  saintliest  of  those  saintly  teachers,  and  together, 
in  childlike  faith,  they  implored  the  intercession  of 
the  wise  men.  They  pleaded  their  cause  from  no 
selfish  motive,  for  this  child  whom  they  so  desired 
was  to  be  a  servant  of  Jehovah,  a  priest  before  His 
altar.  Looking  back  now  upon  that  pilgrimage,  it 
seemed  to  Abraham  as  if  God  had  answered  the  pe 
tition  immediately,  for  a  new  feeling  sprang  up  in 
his  heart ;  and  the  Talmud,  the  Mishnah,  and  all  the 
musty  legal  decisions  of  ages  were  crowded  into  the 
background,  while  something  humanly  warm,  alive 
and  new,  crept  into  it. 

He  looked  upon  Channah  and  her  face  was  beautiful 


THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT  25 

to  behold,  except  for  the  furrows  of  care  upon  her 
forehead,  and  those,  alas !  he  knew  he  had  helped  to 
plow  there. 

This  new  feeling  came  upon  him  with  an  oppressive 
gladness  which  made  him  sob  like  a  child  as  Channah 
pressed  him  close  to  her  bosom ;  so  both  began  to 
know  what  love  was,  and  that  love  guided  them 
home. 

The  summer  which  followed  brought  its  holy  pain 
to  Channah,  who  tasted  resignedly  all  the  penalty  of 
love,  while  the  tenderest  devotion  surrounded  her  at 
every  step  and  guarded  her  "  in  her  lying  down  and 
her  rising  up."  All  day  long  it  was:  "  Channah, 
my  dear,  you  must  not  do  this,  you  must  not  do 
that."  Every  care,  every  exertion,  were  spared  her; 
so  suffering  lost  its  sting  and  the  fear  of  death 
took  flight,  while  the  banner  over  her  was  love.  In 
stead  of  growing  stronger,  however,  as  the  physician 
predicted,  she  grew  daily  weaker,  and  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement  she  did  not  need  Abraham's  restraining 
hand  to  keep  her  in  bed. 

She  watched  him  putting  on  his  grave-clothes  pre 
paratory  to  going  to  the  synagogue  ;  his  long  white 
robe  and  the  white  cap  with  its  silver  tassel,  which  he 
drew  out  of  a  large  bag  on  which  she  had  embroidered 
the  double  triangle  called  the  shield  of  David.  Her 
dark  eyes  were  fastened  upon  his  face  as  he  stood 
there  full  of  life,  yet  ready  for  the  grave  should  the 
death-angel  call  him  ;  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 


26  THE  MEDIATOR 

put  his  arms  close  around  her  before  he  said  his  good 
bye,  and  that  she  could  feel  the  warmth  of  his  body, 
the  fear  of  death  crept  over  her,  and  she  hid  her  tears 
in  the  folds  of  his  garb  destined  for  the  grave. 

"  Channah,  my  own  love,"  he  said,  as  he  embraced 
her  again  and  again,  while  the  tears  flowed  over  her 
cheeks  and  he  himself  was  scarcely  able  to  refrain 
from  weeping.  "  Don't  be  afraid,  God  has  been 
good  ;  He  was  with  us  in  Cracow  ;  He  will  continue 
His  goodness  to  us  until  these  few  months  pass,  and 
He  will  help  you  and  sustain  you." 

The  sun  had  risen  higher  than  it  ever  had  without 
finding  Abraham  in  the  synagogue  at  morning 
prayers,  and  he  could  hear  now  through  the  open 
window  the  voices  of  the  congregation  tumultuously 
assaulting  the  ears  of  Jehovah  with  bitter  lamenta 
tions  and  violent  praise.  It  sounded  like  the  distant 
murmur  of  a  storm,  and  above  the  yet  quiet  waves 
rose  the  voice  of  the  chief  reader  : 

11  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Jehovah  our  God,  King  of 
the  world,  who  giveth  the  cock  perception  to  distin 
guish  between  day  and  night ! "  And  the  congrega 
tion  repeated  the  verse  in  a  deep  murmur  which  did 
not  subside  even  when  the  reader  lifted  his  voice  still 
higher  and  cried  out:  "  Blessed  art  Thou,  O 
Jehovah  our  God,  King  of  the  world,  who  hast  not 
made  me  a  heathen."  And  again  the  congregation 
repeated  the  verse  more  loudly,  although  in  Abra 
ham's  room  it  was  heard  only  as  a  harsh  murmur. 


THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT  27 

With  almost  a  note  of  triumph  the  reader  sang  out 
the  next  blessing  :  "  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Jehovah 
our  God,  King  of  the  universe,  who  hast  not  made 
me  a  woman."  And  when  the  congregation  repeated 
the  verse  it  was  distinctly  heard  by  Abraham  and 
Channah ;  and  she,  bowing  her  head,  said  with  all 
the  pious  women  of  Kottowin  :  "  Blessed  art  Thou, 
O  Jehovah  our  God,  who  hast  made  me  according  to 
Thy  will." 

Without  saying  another  word,  Abraham  wrapped 
himself  in  his  mantle  and  hastened  to  the  house  of 
prayer,  where  his  late  coming  created  not  a  little 
comment. 

The  women  had  reached  the  synagogue  before  him 
and  his  arrival  gave  them  an  opportunity  to  begin 
the  day's  programme,  by  talking  much  one  to  the 
other,  between  their  spasmodic  intervals  of  following 
the  prayers  for  the  day.  Seated  in  their  own  gallery, 
apart  from  the  men,  the  women  gossiped.  The  con 
versations,  carried  on  in  audible  whispers,  were 
about  Channah  and  the  ordeal  before  her  ;  and  every 
woman  in  Kottowin  to  whom  God  had  granted  the 
blessing  of  motherhood  recalled  her  own  joys  and 
sorrows  in  the  rearing  of  her  offspring.  Louder  and 
more  animated  grew  the  talk  in  the  gallery,  and 
farther  and  farther  the  busy  tongues  travelled  into 
the  mysteries  of  life  and  death  ;  while  the  men  be 
low,  wrapped  in  their  grave-clothes,  prone  upon  the 
floor  of  the  synagogue,  were  beating  their  breasts  in 


28  THE  MEDIATOR 

the  confession  of  their  sins,  Abraham  joining  in  the 
service  more  heartily  than  ever. 

Noon  came  and  passed.  The  women  had  grown 
weary  of  conversation  and  were  now  busy  quieting 
their  half -grown  sons  and  daughters,  who  felt  more 
keenly  the  craving  of  empty  stomachs  than  the 
yearning  after  spiritual  blessing  ;  while  the  cry  for 
something  to  eat  was  louder  than  the  lamentations  of 
their  fathers  over  their  sins.  In  vain  did  the  mothers 
hold  smelling  salts  and  lemons  under  their  noses ; 
they  wanted  food  to  eat  and  clamoured  for  it  until 
out  of  the  depths  of  each  woman's  pockets  came 
chicken  bones,  bread  with  poppy  seed,  and  all  the 
things  which  make  glad  the  heart  of  Jewish  youth. 
Many  a  woman  grew  faint  and  had  to  be  led  down 
stairs,  yet  the  vociferous  worshippers  remained  un 
disturbed  until  the  time  came  for  the  priestly  bene 
diction. 

Abraham's  mind  was  with  Channah,  and  vainly 
did  he  strive  to  wing  his  thoughts  Godward  as  be 
hooves  a  priest  of  Jehovah.  Three  times  during  the 
day  he  had  slipped  out  to  see  his  wife,  and  the  last 
time  he  had  thought  it  wise  to  have  Madam  Spitzer 
called  from  the  gallery  to  go  to  her.  All  the  women 
who  saw  her  leaving  her  place  thought  of  Channah 
more  than  of  Jehovah,  and  wondered  if,  after  all,  the 
men  who  that  morning  thanked  God  that  they  were 
not  made  women  did  not  have  abundant  cause  for 
gratitude. 


THE  DAY  OF  ATONEMENT  29 

Abraham  stepped  in  front  of  the  Ark  where  the 
scrolls  of  the  law  were  enshrined.  He  was  bare 
footed  (for  he  was  on  holy  ground)  as  he  faced  the 
congregation,  wearied  by  its  continued  prayers  and 
its  fast  since  daybreak.  Usually,  this  moment 
thrilled  him  by  its  solemn  grandeur.  To  the  right  of 
him  and  to  the  left  of  him  sat  the  dignitaries  of  the 
synagogue,  the  president  of  the  congregation,  the 
rabbi  and  the  elders.  They  bowed  before  him  and 
waited  with  the  congregation  for  the  blessing  to  fall 
from  his  lips.  The  gallery  was  filled  by  women 
eager  to  hasten  home  to  attend  to  their  household 
duties  and  begin  preparations  for  the  evening  meal. 
The  sun  was  setting,  and  anxious  eyes  were  already 
beginning  to  search  the  heavens  for  the  first  star, 
which  would  release  the  people  from  their  fast. 

To-day  the  emotions  which  filled  Abraham  were 
entirely  human  ;  the  thought  of  Channah,  of  her  un 
born  babe,  and  fear  of  blasted  hopes  began  to  blot 
out  the  joyful  anticipation  of  the  last  seven  months, 
clouding  the  grandeur  of  the  moment.  He  wrapped 
himself  in  his  prayer-mantle  and,  stretching  out  his 
hands  over  the  heads  of  the  bowed  congregation,  he 
began  to  pray  softly  and  tenderly,  not  imperiously 
as  of  yore.  "  Thou  hast  commanded  us  to  bless  Thy 
people  Israel.  Blessed  art  Thou,  Jehovah  our  God, 
who  hast  sanctified  us  with  the  holiness  of  Aaron  and 
in  love  hast  commanded  us  to  bless  Thy  people." 
Then  began  that  remarkable,  ecstatic  performance 


30  THE  MEDIATOE 

which  was  really  a  vocal  struggle  between  priest  and 
people — he  dwelling  on  the  first  word  of  each  bless 
ing  pronounced,  and  the  congregation  snatching  it 
from  his  lips  and  repeating  it  with  much  haste  and 
fervour.  Formerly,  when  the  congregation  had  fin 
ished,  it  was  his  custom  to  take  each  word  separately, 
embellishing  it  with  cadences  and  trills,  with  pathetic 
and  joyous  exclamations,  giving  full  vent  to  his 
emotional  nature  and  tasting  each  word  through  as  if 
it  were  the  waiting  feast  after  the  fast. 

To-day  his  voice  did  not  rise  triumphantly,  nor 
did  a  joyous  note  escape  his  lips,  and  when  he  came 
to  the  last  sentence  and  prayed  :  "  Deliver  me  from 
errors  and  purify  the  imagination  of  my  heart  and 
lengthen  the  days  of  my  wife  and  children,  to  be 
passed  in  happiness  and  pleasantness  and  in  abun 
dant  strength  and  peace,"  each  word  was  a  sob,  every 
note  full  of  a  pain  which  he  had  never  known  before, 
so  that  the  women  in  the  gallery  wept,  carried  away 
by  the  tenderness  of  his  prayer.  Now  came  the  final 
amen.  Letter  by  letter  he  began  to  pronounce  it, 
higher  and  louder  rose  his  thrilling  voice,  mellowed 
by  the  tears  which  seemed  to  melt  every  note  in  their 
heat  and  pain.  Once  or  twice  he  pronounced  the 
amen,  and  then  a  wail  came  floating  in  through  the 
windows  of  the  synagogue  as  of  a  woman  in  travail. 
Higher  and  higher  rose  Abraham's  voice,  and, 
blending  with  it,  unknown  to  him,  was  the  voice  of 
Channah,  struggling  to  give  life  by  her  own  death. 


m 

THE  KOSHER  NURSE 

THE  evening  star,  which  hundreds  of  eager 
eyes  simultaneously  detected,  was  trem 
bling  in  the  heavens,  a  token  that  the  Day  of 
Atonement  was  over,  that  the  candles  might  be 
lighted,  the  tables  spread,  and  the  fast  succeeded  by 
a  feast.  As  much  gladness  as  ever  entered  the  Jew 
ish  homes  in  Kottowin  came  now,  with  hunger  and 
thirst  allayed  and  with  release  from  the  rigour  of 
those  spiritual  exercises  which  had  taxed  to  their 
limit  both  the  body  and  the  mind.  If  any  more 
prayers  were  offered  that  night  they  were  offered  by 
the  younger  portion  of  the  population,  and  were  in 
profound  gratitude  that  the  Day  of  Atonement  came 
but  once  a  year — and  these  of  course  were  not 
printed  in  the  Prayer  Book. 

In  Abraham's  home  no  table  was  spread,  no  candles 
were  lighted  ;  the  strain  of  the  fast  and  the  vigil  of 
the  day  were  not  relieved  by  the  appearance  of  the 
evening  star,  nor  by  all  the  brilliant  galaxy  of  stars 
as  they  shot  out  into  the  heavens,  nor  even  at  mid 
night  as  they  kept  their  silent  watches.  Still  in  his 
grave-clothes,  holding  Channah's  hands,  Abraham 
prayed  to  Jehovah  ;  while  Channah's  agony  and  his 

31 


32  THE  MEDIATOR 

own  shook  him  as  if  two  great  fevers  were  passing 
through  his  veins,  the  one  more  consuming  than  the 
other.  The  physician  stood  at  the  bedside  ready  for 
extreme  measures,  as  he  watched  the  ebbing  of  Chan 
nah' s  strength;  then,  knowing  that  her  hour  was 
come  and  that  it  held  all  the  penalties  pronounced 
upon  mortal  woman,  he  led  Abraham — who  had  not 
strength  left  to  resist  his  firm  grasp — away  from 
Channah's  side.  Lying  upon  the  floor  in  the  outer 
room  trying  to  grasp  the  beaten  earth  with  nerveless 
fingers,  unable  to  weep,  unable  to  remove  the  pres 
sure  of  pain  crushing  his  heart,  he  waited  during 
the  dark  minutes  which  passed  like  hours,  and  then 
the  door  was  opened.  The  yellow  light  which  shone 
in  upon  him  seemed  like  a  burst  of  flame  shooting 
out  of  some  terrible  depth,  as,  dazed,  he  looked  up 
and  waited  for  his  doom. 

"  Mazel  tov" — Good  luck  to  you!  yet  Madam 
Spitzer  uttered  no  shout  of  joy.  "It's  a  boy,  Eeb 

Abraham,  a  wee  little  boy  ;  but  Channah "  He 

did  not  let  her  finish  the  sentence.  As  he  rushed 
into  the  room,  a  weak  cry,  a  puny  little  cry,  greeted 
his  ears,  coming  from  within  bundles  of  blankets 
.  .  .  and  Channah  lay  there,  pale,  almost  lifeless, 
with  closed  eyes  which  never  opened  again  to  see 
the  son  whom  Jehovah  had  given  to  her  and  Abra 
ham  in  answer  to  their  petition. 

The  morning  came,  and  yet  another  morning,  and 
the  wee  child  lived  on,  while  its  mother  was  wrapped 


THE  KOSHEE  NUESE  33 

in  a  white  shroud  and  laid  upon  the  floor  ;  then  be 
fore  night  came  she  was  carried  away  by  the  pious 
men  of  Kottowin,  who  recited  long  prayers  and  made 
many  lamentations,  but  shed  no  tears.  The  women 
stood  in  the  doorways  as  the  procession  passed. 
They  did  not  read  Hebrew  prayers  out  of  the  Prayer 
Book,  nor  did  they  make  their  lamentations  accord 
ing  to  the  ritual ;  but  they  wept  bitterly  as  they 
thought  of  Channah  whom  they  loved,  of  Abraham 
alone  with  his  tiny  babe,  and  of  the  motherless  child. 

Abraham,  being  a  priest,  was  not  allowed  to  touch 
the  body  of  his  beloved  wife  nor  to  follow  her  out  to 
the  God's  acre  where  she  was  buried,  close  to  the 
roadway  which  divided  the  Jewish  cemetery  from  the 
Pany's  fields,  now  lying  barren  j  for  the  harvesters 
had  passed  over  them.  So  Abraham  remained  at 
home  with  the  little  babe,  not  much  bigger  than  his 
two  hands,  listening  helplessly  to  its  cry  for  food ; 
and  the  new  care  for  the  living  was  added  to  the  bur 
den  of  his  grief  for  the  dead.  What  should  be  done 
with  the  living  one,  was  now  the  question  which  puz 
zled  the  mind  of  Madam  Spitzer,  and  she  threw  the 
burden  upon  him  as  soon  as  the  funeral  procession 
had  left  the  house. 

"  You  can't  wait,  Eeb  Abraham  ;  the  child  needs 
food  now,  and  I  don't  want  to  spoil  its  stomach  by 
feeding  it  from  a  bottle.  You  must  search  for  a 
nurse." 

So  while  Channah' s  body  was  being  wrapped  close 


34  THE  MEDIATOE 

in  the  arms  of  Mother  Earth,  Abraham  was  holding 
the  child  close  to  his  own  breast.  It  was  small  and 
puny,  its  tiny  forehead  was  wrinkled  as  its  mother's 
had  been,  and  it  looked  as  if  it  had  grown  shrivelled 
from  age.  Yet  it  was  destined  to  live ;  it  was 
simply  the  question  of  a  nurse,  the  doctor  said,  and 
how  to  provide  one  was  a  serious  problem,  at  least 
from  the  religious  standpoint.  The  Jewish  women 
who  were  mothers  were  all  married  and  had  family 
duties  which  could  not  be  easily  shifted  to  other 
shoulders ;  and  although  there  were  many  offers  to 
feed  the  baby  temporarily,  no  one  could  be  found  who 
was  able  to  give  the  delicate  child  the  immediate  and 
constant  care  which  it  needed. 

There  were  Gentile  nurses  in  abundance,  for  the 
peasant  girls  rarely  married  before  they  were  mothers, 
and  many  of  them  were  able  to  lay  the  foundation 
of  a  modest  fortune  by  nursing  two  or  three  children 
of  the  well-to-do.  Their  own  were  often  taken  in 
charge  by  some  old  women,  whose  business  it  was  to 
keep  such  children  ;  and  there  was  rarely  a  serious 
question  raised  as  to  whether  she  kept  them  alive  or 
not 

Abraham's  scruples  led  him  that  same  night  to  the 
Babbi,  to  whom  he  propounded  the  question,  whether 
a  Jewish  child  might  nurse  at  a  Gentile  woman's 
breast. 

"Beb  Abraham,"  the  Eabbi  replied,  "you  are  a 
fool.  Forgive  me  for  calling  you  that  on  the  day  of 


THE  KOSHER  NURSE  35 

your  great  sorrow  ;  but  this  question  has  been  settled 
a  thousand  times,  and  always  in  favour  of  the  infant. 
The  milk  from  a  Gentile  nurse's  breast  is  kosher  for 
an  infant  which  cannot  be  kept  alive  any  other  way." 

"But,  Rabbi,"  was  Abraham's  repeated  question, 
"  how  can  the  milk  be  kosher  when  that  woman  has 
been  eating  pork  all  the  days  of  her  life  ?  " 

"No;  that  milk  is  not  kosher,  Reb  Abraham," 
again  said  the  Rabbi,  "you  are  right;  but  just  as 
soon  as  you  get  your  nurse  home,  feed  her  with  kosher 
meat  and  kosher  soup,  and  the  milk  will  be  kosher. 
Reb  Abraham,  let  me  tell  you  that  if  you  had  any 
sense  left  you  would  have  thought  of  that  yourself. 
To-morrow  morning,  as  soon  as  you  can,  march 
out  to  the  hills  and  go  around  among  the  peasants. 
You  won't  have  to  march  long  until  you  will  find  just 
the  kind  of  woman  you  need,  and  the  sooner  you  get 
the  child  to  her  breast  the  better  ;  only  don't  forget 
the  kosher  meat  and  the  kosher  soup." 

"But,  Rabbi,  is  she  herself  kosher?"  was  Abra 
ham's  anxious  plaint. 

"Reb  Abraham,  I  will  tell  you  how  you  may  know 
whether  she  is  kosher  or  not.  If  she  is  small  and 
narrow  chested,  with  a  sallow  skin,  then  she  is  not 
kosher,  and  no  scouring  and  no  prayers  will  make  her 
so  ;  but  if  she  is  tall  and  well-formed,  with  white  skin 
and  red  cheeks,  then  she  is  kosher  through  and 
through  for  the  infant." 

And  Abraham  went  home,   still  puzzling  how  a 


36  THE  MEDIATOR 

Gentile  woman  who  had  been  eating  pork  all  her  life 
could  be  kosher. 

The  quest  for  a  nurse,  which  began  the  next  morn 
ing,  was  not  an  easy  one,  in  spite  of  the  abundance 
of  material.  The  mountain  villages  in  which  one 
was  likely  to  be  found  were  as  full  of  hatred  to 
wards  the  Jews  as  they  were  of  crosses,  images,  and 
wayside  shrines.  Both  these  facts  made  travelling 
unpleasant  and  somewhat  dangerous  for  a  Jew  of 
Abraham's  degree  of  orthodoxy.  He  walked  a  mile 
along  the  same  highway  upon  which  Channah  and  he 
had  travelled  when  they  were  both  impelled  by  a 
great  desire,  and  the  memory  of  it  all  was  painfully 
burdensome.  Turning  to  the  right  he  began  the  slow 
climb  upward.  At  every  turn  of  the  road  he  saw 
some  token  of  Catholic  devotion  ;  each  time  his  eyes 
inadvertently  fell  upon  a  cross,  he  closed  them  tightly, 
and  when  he  was  sure  that  no  one  was  watching  him 
he  spat  upon  the  ground.  At  the  edge  of  the  next 
village  he  met  a'large  group  of  young  men  carrying 
heavy  bundles  upon  their  shoulders.  As  soon  as 
they  saw  him,  they  began  to  keep  time  to  his  weary 
steps  with  a  very  familiar  call,  which,  in  each  mean 
ingless  sentence,  contained  all  the  hate  which  existed 
between  Jew  and  Gentile. 

"  Hep,  Abraham  hep,  yon  better  lively  step, 
Or  else  we  -will  be  after  you, 
You  stinking,  dirty  little  Jew." 

Abraham  stepped  aside  to  let  them  pass,  but  they 


THE  KOSHER  NURSE  37 

saw  a  chance  for  sport,  and,  dropping  their  bundles, 
surrounded  him,  making  escape  impossible. 

"  What  you  got  to  sell,  Abraham  ?  "  was  the  first 
question  thrown  at  him  by  the  mischievous  crowd. 

When  he  assured  them  that  he  had  nothing  to  sell, 
they  began  examining  his  pockets.  Not  finding  any 
thing,  either  money  or  goods,  they  began  the  use  of  a 
torture  very  common  in  that  locality. 

"Say  'Jesus  Christ/  Abraham,"  was  the  com 
mand. 

Abraham  was  silent. 

"Say  l  Jesus — Christ,'  "  more  imperiously  and 
slowly  the  crowd  insisted. 

Again  silence  met  their  demand. 

"Let's  choke  him  until  he  does  say  it,"  and  a 
strong  hand  closed  upon  his  throat ;  but  no  sound  es 
caped  him,  as  he  fell  upon  the  ground,  pushed  over 
by  the  force  of  the  attack.  Then  as  he  lay  there  he 
began  to  plead  with  the  men. 

"  You  know  I  won't  mention  that  name  if  you  kill 
me.  Let  me  go  !  I  am  a  poor  Jew  ;  I  have  not  done 
you  any  harm  ;  I  am  up  here  looking  for  a  nurse  for 
my  child ;  I  buried  its  mother  yesterday." 

When  the  men  looked  into  his  face,  distorted  more 
by  past  pain  than  by  present  fear,  they  let  him  rise. 
"Hey,  looking  for  a  nurse,  are  you!"  said  a  strap 
ping  young  fellow.  "I  know  a  fine  one  for  you. 
Suszka  Schafranek  is  her  name,  and  she  lives  in  the 
house  with  the  big  St.  Florian  painted  over  the  door. 


38  THE  MEDIATOE 

Hey,  Jew,  you'll  be  lucky  if  you  get  her.  She  is  my 
sweetheart,  the  finest  girl  on  the  hills  around  here, 
and  she'll  be  my  wife  when  I  earn  money  enough  in 
America  to  send  for  her.  We're  off,  all  of  us,  to  the 
land  where  money  grows  on  trees.  I  left  Suszka  a 
little  girl  to  remember  me  by,  and  if  you  get  her,  Jew, 
don't  let  her  forget  her  lover  across  the  ocean." 

The  men  made  way  for  Abraham,  who  had  now 
risen  with  a  groan,  promising  to  take  good  care  that 
Suszka  should  not  forget  her  lover  across  the  sea. 
While  he  yet  spoke  to  them,  the  bells  in  the  big  Do 
minican  cloister  below  pealed  forth  melodiously  and 
sweet,  and  the  men  took  off  their  hats,  crossing  them 
selves  as  they  repeated  their  prayers. 

The  Jew  also  prayed  ;  a  prayer  uttered  for  the  first 
time  long  ago,  but  never  more  fervently  than  now, 
when  Abraham  said  :  "Do  not  I  hate  them  that  hate 
Thee,  Jehovah?" 

All  Slavic  villages  are  alike ;  the  cemetery  at  the 
edge,  the  church  not  far  away,  and  each  church 
crowned  by  the  same  shaped  steeple.  Two  rows  of 
straw-thatched  cottages,  every  one  of  them  like  its 
neighbour  and  each  leaning  against  the  other,  a  big 
pond  in  the  centre  of  the  village,  and  a  shrine  for  its 
patron  saint — this  was  Kunova,  its  name  alone  dis 
tinguishing  it  from  thousands  of  other  villages  scat 
tered  throughout  the  Slavic  world. 

The  perplexing  thing  which  remained  in  Abraham's 
mind  was,  to  find  the  abode  of  the  nurse-to-be.  A1J 


THE  KOSHER  NURSE  39 

he  knew  was  that  she  lived  in  the  house  with  St. 
Florian  painted  over  its  doorway.  To  search  for  that 
saint  would  have  been  torture  enough  even  had  he 
been  versed  in  the  Catholic  calendar,  which  of  course 
he  was  not. 

Never  before  had  his  eyes  seen  so  many  gorgeously 
painted  images,  grotesque  figures  of  all  sorts,  with 
mitres  and  shepherds'  crooks.  When,  finally,  he  took 
courage  enough  to  question  some  one,  he  was  told  that 
the  saint  for  whom  he  was  looking  was  the  protector 
against  fire,  and  carried  a  bucket  in  his  hands  ;  so  he 
felt  a  sense  of  joy  when  he  saw  that  august  personage, 
painted  over  the  doorway  of  Suszka's  house,  which 
was  given  over  to  his  special  protection.  The  odours 
of  the  barnyard  penetrated  the  living  room  which  he 
entered.  Most  of  its  floor  and  wall  space  was  occu 
pied  by  a  huge  bed,  on  which,  towering  to  the  very 
ceiling,  was  one  feather  bed  on  top  of  another  and 
still  another  on  top  of  those,  all  covered  by  a  gor 
geously  embroidered  sheet.  Pictures  of  various  saints 
of  variegated  hues  hung  on  that  portion  of  the  walls 
not  covered  by  the  bed  ;  while  the  furniture,  although 
scanty  and  crudely  made,  showed  touches  of  an  ele 
mentary  art,  possessed  by  the  Slavic  people  in  a  great 
degree,  although  as  yet  undeveloped  and  consequently 
unspoiled. 

In  these  surroundings  Abraham  found  Suszka, 
nursing  her  own  baby,  a  girl  about  two  weeks  of  age 
and  about  ten  times  the  size  of  his  child.  Its  cheeks 


40  THE  MEDIATOR 

were  like  pin  cushions,  and  the  little  fists  pressed 
against  its  mother's  breast  looked  nearly  as  big  as  his 
boy's  head. 

Abraham  was  shrewd  enough  to  say  to  Suszka  that 
her  lover  had  sent  him  to  negotiate  for  her  services, 
and  although  that  did  not  finish  the  business,  it  served 
as  a  proper  introduction.  Suszka  was  loath  to  go  ; 
first  of  all  because  she  wanted  to  be  with  her  baby,  and 
secondly  because  she  did  not  care  to  go  into  a  Jewish 
home,  having  heard  since  her  childhood  that  the  Jews 
slaughtered  Christian  girls  for  their  passover  service. 
Abraham,  however,  used  two  arguments  very  effect 
ively.  "  My  baby  will  die  if  you  do  not  come,"  and 
"I'll  pay  you  five  ruble  a  month."  Finally,  and  oh, 
what  pangs  it  cost  him  !  but  it  won  for  him  the  vic 
tory  :  "You  may  bring  your  baby  with  you  and 
feed  it,  if  you  have  food  enough  for  both." 

The  bargain  was  made,  and  Abraham  waited  for 
Suszka  to  make  ready  to  accompany  him  home.  At 
length  she  came,  her  belongings  tied  in  a  linen  sheet 
and  suspended  from  her  shoulders;  while  in  her 
arms  she  carried  an  equally  heavy  burden,  her  own 
child,  peacefully  asleep  after  its  abundant  meal. 
Through  the  village,  past  the  church  and  the  cemetery 
they  walked,  Suszka  stopping  before  every  wayside 
shrine  and  sprinkling  herself  with  holy  water  wher 
ever  she  had  a  chance;  while  Abraham  closed  his 
eyes  and  wondered  how  a  nurse  with  the  touch  of  holy 
water  fresh  upon  her  could  be  kosher,  and  how  in  the 


THE  KOSHEE  NURSE  41 

world  his  baby  could  wait  to  be  fed  until  she  had 
eaten  enough  kosher  meat  and  soup  to  change  the 
ritual  nature  of  her  food. 

He  had  his  programme  planned.  Suszka  was  to 
have  a  bath,  eat  a  full  meal,  and  after  waiting  five 
hours  she  would  nurse  his  boy ;  but  while  they  were 
yet  a  few  doors  from  his  dwelling  they  heard  the  pit 
iful  cries  of  the  little  one.  When  Suszka  came  into 
the  room  where  the  child  lay  in  its  crib,  and  saw  how 
tiny  and  emaciated  it  was,  she  took  it  to  her  breast 
immediately ;  and  as  Abraham  looked  upon  her  and ' 
saw  that  she  was  strong  and  had  a  white  skin,  a  broad 
chest,  and  a  plentiful  supply  of  milk — above  all,  as  he 
saw  his  mite  of  a  baby  sobbing  in  her  ample  bosom, 
and  drinking  to  its  full  contentment,  he  knew  that  the 
nurse  was  kosher  for  the  infant,  even  as  the  Eabbi 
had  said. 


IV 
HOW  THE  LORD  CALLED  SAMUEL 

THE  lilac  hedge  across  the  long  bridge  had 
been  in  bloom  many  a  time  since  Abraham 
and  Channah  passed  through  it  on  that 
wonderful  spring  morning,  and  many  a  season  the 
poppies  had  nodded  their  heavy  heads  to  the  sun 
flowers  as  they  flaunted  their  golden  petals  on  the 
Pany's  field,  close  to  where  Channah  lay. 

Suszka,  the  Gentile  nurse,  watched  over  her  little 
Samuel  (for  thus  he  had  been  named  when  he  was 
circumcised)  as  if  she  were  his  mother.  Al 
though  she  had  a  child  of  her  own  and  nursed  it  at 
the  same  breast,  the  curly-headed  Jewish  boy,  with 
his  great  black  eyes,  had  gripped  her  heart  even 
more  tightly  than  had  her  blue-eyed  Anka,  the 
daughter  of  her  faithless,  lover,  whose  "fat  letter" 
from  America  never  came,  and  who,  in  that  far-away 
land,  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her. 

With  rare  skill  and  tact  did  Suszka  assume  the  duties 
of  the  household.  After  the  children  were  weaned, 
she  took  her  own  child  to  its  grandmother,  while 
she  remained  in  Abraham's  home,  because  of  the 
good  wage  he  paid  her,  the  good  food  he  gave  her, 
and,  most  of  all,  because  of  the  love  she  felt  for  the 

motherless  and  beautiful  boy,  Samuel.    She  mixed 

42 


HOW  THE  LORD  CALLED  SAMUEL      43 

her  Slavic  speech  freely  with  Jewish  phrases,  and 
never  in  Abraham's  hearing  did  she  call  upon  the 
Holy  Family  for  protection,  but  loudly  exclaimed, 
in  season  and  out  of  season,  "Schma  Jsrael!" 
Hear,  oh  !  Israel !  She  knew,  as  well  as  any  Jewess, 
how  to  prepare  meat  according  to  the  Jewish  ritual, 
and  just  when  to  light  the  Sabbath  candles.  She 
held  her  boy  to  his  morning  prayers  as  soon  as  he 
could  mumble  the  Hebrew  phrases,  and  at  night, 
while  she  tucked  him  into  bed,  she  repeated  to  him 
the  names  of  the  angels  for  whose  protecting  presence 
he  asked,  according  to  the  Prayer  Book.  Of  course, 
she  went  to  her  own  church,  and  no  doubt  was  freely 
sprinkled  with  holy  water ;  but  she  never  permitted 
the  odour  of  incense  to  cling  to  her,  even  as  in  other 
things  she  scrupulously  avoided  giving  offense. 

Once  a  year,  during  Easter  week,  she  went  home  to 
her  native  village,  taking  Samuel  with  her.  She 
would  wrap  him  in  a  linen  sheet  which  she  swung 
over  her  shoulders,  pass  with  him  over  the  long 
bridge,  through  the  blossoming  hedges  of  lilac,  and 
climb  the  steep  hillside.  Although  he  was  destined 
to  travel  far  and  cross  the  seas,  those  journeys  on 
Suszka's  back,  when  she  sang  to  him  and  he  beat 
her  with  a  little  switch  to  make  her  go — when  she 
was  his  horse  and  he  the  brave  hussar,  when  she 
asked  him:  "Whither  are  we  going?"  and  he 
would  reply  :  "  To  America."  Yes,  those  journeys 
he  would  never  forget. 


44  THE  MEDIATOR 

This  was  his  sixth  Easter  season,  and  Suszka, 
dressed  in  her  very  best,  was  going  home  to  see  her 
little  girl;  Samuel,  too,  must  put  on  his  Sabbath 
suit  and  go  with  her.  In  her  linen  sheet  Suszka  car 
ried  unleavened  bread  enough  for  the  boy's  meals, 
which  included  his  favourite  piece  of  roast  goose, 
and  enough  of  both  to  share  with  Anka,  who  tasted 
such  dainties  only  on  these  annual  visits. 

The  preceding  day  had  been  as  beautiful  as  this 
one,  but  Samuel  had  spent  the  morning  in  the  syna 
gogue  and  the  afternoon  in  the  Rabbi's  stuffy  study, 
where  all  the  pious  men  of  Kottowin  with  their  sons 
had  gathered  to  ask  and  answer  questions  which 
concerned  the  yesterdays  of  long  ago.  At  night 
again,  before,  during,  and  after  the  meal,  there  were 
long  prayers,  bitter  herbs,  and  memories  of  the  hard 
days  when  Israel  was  in  captivity :  all  this,  while 
meaningless  to  the  child,  oppressed  him. 

To-day  he  walked  out  over  the  long  bridge,  past 
the  toll  gate,  through  the  rows  of  fragrant  lilacs,  and 
the  birds  sang  joyously,  as  the  reader  in  the  syna 
gogue  never  sang.  Samuel  did  not  have  to  stand  stiff 
and  straight,  Prayer  Book  in  hand;  he  might  jump 
into  the  ditches  and  out  of  them,  chasing  butterflies. 
Instead  of  having  just  damp  spots  on  the  synagogue 
ceiling  as  material  for  his  imagination,  he  now  saw 
troops  of  fleecy  clouds  travelling  along  in  endless  suc 
cession  and  variety,  and  against  the  solid  green  back 
ground  of  the  lilac  hedge  could  be  smelled  and  dis- 


HOW  THE  LOED  CALLED  SAMUEL      45 

cerned  its  wonderful  blossom,  full  of  spicy  fragrance. 
It  was  like  stepping  out  of  a  prison ;  for  although 
his  father  was  lenient  in  everything  else,  he  was 
strict  and  scrupulous  about  religious  observances, 
and  they  were  calculated  to  shut  in  the  boy's  little 
soul  and  keep  the  joy  of  God's  world  out.  His 
eyes  were  early  hungry  for  beauty,  and  his  unawak- 
ened  spirit  already  thirsted  for  something  not  found 
between  the  synagogue  walls.  Those  very  desires 
tempted  him  to  commit  a  great  sinj  for  in  trying 
to  reach  a  sprig  of  lilac  he  broke  a  big  branch  of 
it,  which  now,  heavy  from  its  load  of  blossoms,  lay 
at  his  feet. 

Suszka's  scolding  was  nothing  compared  with  that 
which  followed ;  for  the  Pany  who  owned  the  lilacs, 
as  well  as  everything  else  worth  owning,  was  just 
passing,  his  gun  upon  his  shoulders  and  his  dogs 
following  him.  He  looked  so  angry  with  his  long 
gray  beard  and  fierce  eyes  glaring  at  the  little 
offender,  that  Samuel  thought  it  was  the  very  Je 
hovah  come  from  His  throne  in  heaven  to  punish 
him. 

"Hey,  you  hussy,"  the  Pany  called  out  angrily  to 
Suszka,  * '  you  better  keep  your  eyes  on  that  Jewish 
fledgeling  of  yours  ;  I  have  a  good  mind  to  let  him 
taste  a  bit  of  my  whip." 

Samuel  hid  himself  in  the  generous  folds  of 
Suszka's  stiff  petticoats  until  the  anger  of  the  Pany 
had  passed,  and  whenever  thereafter  he  read  of  Adam 


46  THE  MEDIATOE 

hiding  himself  from  the  Lord,  he  thought  that  he 
knew  just  how  Adam  felt. 

The  day  was  bound  to  be  full  of  adventures  for  the 
little  fellow.  It  was  the  Christians'  Easter  day,  and 
groups  of  gaily-clad  peasants  passed  along  the 
highways,  greeting  one  another  with  the  holy  saluta 
tion  :  "  The  Lord  is  risen  to-day  "  ;  to  which  came 
the  unctuous  reply  :  "The  Lord  is  risen,  indeed"  ; 
yet  scarcely  a  man  or  woman  who  knew  Suszka, 
passed,  without  having  a  fling  at  her  and  the  boy. 
"  Hey,  Jew  mother,  how  are  you  I  Are  you  not  fat 
enough  to  be  killed  for  the  passover?  "  was  a  com 
mon  question  thrown  at  her,  while  Samuel  was  ac 
costed  at  nearly  every  step  with  the  same  song  which 
had  haunted  his  father's  footsteps  on  this  same  high 
way  years  before:  "Hep,  hep,  hep,  you  better 
lively  step,  etc." 

Suszka  scolded  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  only  to 
draw  new  sallies  from  her  friends  and  neighbours, 
who  thought  it  part  of  their  religious  duty  to  offend 
the  little  boy.  No  one  but  he  knew  how  deep  was 
the  hurt  which  they  made,  how  they  blotted  out  the 
joy  of  the  day  for  him,  how  even  the  broad  heaven 
seemed  to  shut  its  gates  against  him  and  say: 
"Don't  look  at  my  clouds  and  far-flying  fields  of 
colour,  for  you  are  something  ugly  and  mean,  which 
everybody  hates  ;  my  beauty  is  not  for  you." 

He  clung  to  Suszka' s  skirts,  no  longer  daring  to 
skip  into  the  ditches  and  out  of  them ;  nor  did  the 


HOW  THE  LOED  CALLED  SAMUEL      47 

butterflies  tempt  him  to  run  after  them ;  and  when 
Suszka  stopped  before  the  shrine  of  the  patron  saint 
of  her  village  to  pray,  he  remained  by  her  side,  and 
knelt  while  she  knelt.  Both  were  glad  when  they 
passed  underneath  the  sheltering  picture  of  St. 
Florian,  over  the  door  of  Suszka' s  house ;  although 
even  he  could  not  protect  against  the  fire  of  race 
hatred. 

Anka  received  Samuel  with  much  joy,  for  children 
have  no  race-prejudice.  She  ate  his  unleavened  bread 
and  favourite  piece  of  goose,  then  took  him  out  into 
the  barnyard,  where  she  showed  him  the  pigs,  the 
calves,  and  the  colt ;  for  everything  had  its  young. 
Together,  they  climbed  under  the  eaves  of  the  roof  to 
see  the  swallows'  nests  and  the  birds  darting  in  and 
out,  preparing  their  habitation  for  the  season's  task 
of  rearing  a  family,  and  he  forgot  the  new-grown  pain 
in  the  joys  of  the  moment.  Together,  they  also  left 
the  house  and  went  into  the  woods  to  gather  violets, 
then  into  the  cemetery,  and,  very  naturally,  they 
drifted  close  to  the  church,  drawn  by  the  sound  of 
the  organ  and  the  sweet  Easter  Mass  whose  solemn 
but  joyous  notes  wooed  the  ear  of  Samuel. 

How  wonderful  it  all  was !  How  it  enraptured  him, 
drawing  him  with  irresistible  power  into  the  church. 
Such  splendour  his  eyes  had  never  seen  ;  glistening 
altars,  shining  lamps,  gorgeously  embroidered  ban 
ners,  priests  in  splendid  robes,  acolytes  walking  up 
and  down  altar  steps,  the  tinkling  of  bells,  the 


48  THE  MEDIATOR 

sonorous  voice  of  the  priest,  the  deep,  vibrating  tones 
of  the  organ  ;  it  fairly  overwhelmed  the  boy,  and  the 
two  climbed  into  the  gallery  and  looked  down  upon 
the  throng,  watching  the  priest  coming  and  going, 
swinging  his  censer.  The  odour  of  the  incense  per 
meated  everything,  and  Samuel  was  intoxicated  by  a 
draught  from  the  cup  whose  sweet  and  bitter  he  was 
some  day  to  drink.  In  a  far-away,  dreamlike  way, 
he  felt  that,  some  day,  this  music  would  be  his  own, 
coming  from  his  lips ;  that  he,  too,  would  walk  up 
and  down  altar  steps  swinging  cups  of  incense  ;  and 
the  strange  Latin  phrases,  so  musical  and  resonant, 
wooed  him  with  a  prophetic  promise  that  some  day, 
he,  too,  would  speak  them  over  throngs  of  waiting 
people. 

It  is  just  possible  that  the  things  which  happened 
later,  interpreted  his  vague  feelings  at  this  time,  but 
the  little  child  was  sure  then  that  some  great  event 
had  come  to  pass,  that  his  soul  had  tasted  something, 
the  memory  of  which  would  linger  long,  and  return 
again  and  again,  even  with  mightier  power.  Dream 
ing,  he  stood  among  the  throng  which  now  left  the 
church.  The  peasants  looked  in  astonishment  at  this 
Jewish  child  in  their  midst,  not  knowing  nor  caring 
that  he  was  a  kinsman  of  Him  whose  Eesurrection 
filled  them  with  gladness.  And  he  was  unmindful  of 
what  they  said  ;  he  waited  until  they  had  gone  and 
still  stood,  until  the  priest  came,  and  the  acolytes. 
He  was  astonished  to  find  that  the  priest  was  just  a 


HOW  THE  LOED  CALLED  SAMUEL      49 

man,  with  a  man's  coarse  face,  and  that  the  acolytes 
were  boys  who  had  many  a  time  thrown  clods  of 
earth  at  him.  Disturbed  by  his  discovery,  he  turned 
abruptly  and  ran  back  to  the  shelter  of  Suszka's 
house,  where  he  and  Anka  alternately  played  with 
the  young  calves  and  colts,  and  ate  more  unleavened 
bread  and  goose,  until  it  was  time  to  return  to 
Kottowin.  Samuel  by  this  time  was  tired ;  so  Suszka 
wrapped  the  big  boy  in  her  now  empty  linen  sheet, 
where  he  was  hid  from  the  insulting  eyes  of  the 
Gentiles,  and  where  he  fell  asleep,  to  dream  of  skip 
ping  calves  and  gorgeous  acolytes  walking  up  and 
down  altar  steps  to  the  triumphant  notes  of  the 
priest's  chant. 

When  he  awoke,  his  feet  were  asleep  and  Suszka 
was  tired  of  her  heavy  burden,  so  she  let  him  down, 
and  as  they  passed  the  rows  of  lilacs  he  cast  his  eyes 
to  the  ground  and  ran  as  fast  as  he  could,  until  he 
was  safe  past  the  tollgate  and  the  long  bridge,  and 
within  the  Jewry  of  holy  Kottowin. 

After  supper  he  had  to  go  to  the  synagogue  for 
evening  prayers,  but  he  was  so  restless  and  turned 
so  many  pages  of  the  Prayer  Book  at  once,  that  his 
father,  losing  his  temper,  struck  him  severely,  so 
poor  little  Samuel  went  home  crying  ;  and  crying 
was  put  to  bed,  where  he  tossed  restlessly  upon  the 
feathers,  and  was  not  asleep  when  his  father  lay 
down  by  his  side. 

"  Tateleben  (father,   dear),   tell  me,   why  do  the 


50  THE  MEDIATOR 

Gentiles  hate  the  Jews?"  he  asked  feverishly,  and 
with  great  effort. 

"Be  still,  my  boy,  and  go  to  sleep,"  was  all  the 
answer  he  received. 

"  Tateleben,  why  do  you  always  shut  your  eyes  and 
spit  when  you  see  a  cross? "  again  he  asked. 

"  Go  to  sleep,  I  tell  you.  It's  nine  o'clock,  and 
little  boys  ought  to  be  asleep  long  ago." 

A  short  silence  followed,  and  then  the  watchman 
passed  and  blew  upon  his  horn  nine  times  :  "Too- 
hoo,  toohoo,  toohoo,"  after  which  he  began  to  sing  : 

"  Ye  pious  folk  of  Kottowin, 
Have  you  to  your  fires  seen  ? 
The  Holy  Ghost  your  souls  will  keep, 
Now  go  to  bed  and  go  to  sleep ;  " 

and  again  he  blew  nine  times:  "Toohoo,  toohoo, 
toohoo."  Hardly  had  the  sound  of  the  last  blast 
died  away  when  another  question  escaped  Samuel's 
lips  :  "  Tateleben,  who  is  the  Holy  Ghost?  " 

Then  Abraham's  anger  waxed  hot,  and  he  was 
about  to  strike  the  little  boy,  but  hearing  the  child 
sob  before  his  hand  descended  upon  him  in  the  dark, 
the  father,  instead  of  striking  him,  took  him  in  his 
arms  and,  pressing  him  close,  covered  his  hot  lips 
with  kisses.  Then  he  tried  to  hush  him  to  sleep,  as 
he  had  done  many  a  time  when  he  was  a  babe. 

But  again  a  question  escaped  from  the  brain  of  the 
overwrought  child  :  "  Tateleben,  am  I  going  to  be  a 
priest?" 


HOW  THE  LOED  CALLED  SAMUEL      51 

' '  Yes,  my  boy, ' '  Abraham  replied  ;  ' '  you  are  going 
to  be  a  priest  and  wear  a  silken  prayer-mantle  with  a 
broad  golden  border.  Your  old  father  has  only  a 
cotton  one,  with  a  silver  border,  but  when  you  are 
thirteen  years  of  age  I'll  buy  you  one  of  silk  ;  noth 
ing  is  too  good  for  my  boy.  Now,  go  to  sleep." 

"  Tateleben,"  again  the  lips  moved,  for  the  child's 
mind  worked  incessantly  ;  "  why  do  you  shout  when 
you  bless  the  people  I " 

Abraham  did  not  reply. 

"Tateleben,  why  don't  the  priests  of  the  Gentiles 
wear  beards'? "  Again  no  reply  from  the  father. 

"  Tateleben,  why  did  the  Jews  kill  the  Gentile's 
God?" 

Still  Abraham  was  silent,  pretending  to  sleep  ;  but 
his  own  brain  was  busy. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN 

THE  nineteenth  century  had  not  yet  come 
into  Kottowin ;  Christians  and  Jews  alike 
lived  in  the  Middle  Ages  and  were  ani 
mated  by  their  spirit.  Neither  the  Eenaissance  nor 
the  Reformation  had  made  any  impression  upon 
Church  or  Synagogue,  and  both  had  settled  down, 
securely  entrenched  in  superstition,  tradition,  and 
ignorance.  What  these  great  world  movements  failed 
to  do  in  ages  was,  however,  accomplished  almost  in 
a  day  by  a  very  commonplace  institution,  usually  un- 
associated  with  the  idea  of  progress — namely,  a  bar 
ber's  shop.  There  were  no  prophets  to  make  straight 
its  way,  and  no  heralds  announced  its  coming ;  but 
two  great  forces,  steam  and  electricity,  preceded  it, 
and  in  a  measure  prepared  Holy  Kottowin  for  this 
unholy  innovation. 

First  came  a  steam-thresher  for  the  Pany's  domain, 
and  when  it  went  puffing  down  the  dusty  road  into 
the  town  it  was  regarded  as  if  it  were  his  Satanic 
Majesty  himself.  At  night,  when  the  monster  was 
bereft  of  its  strength,  the  peasants  attacked  it  and 
succeeded  in  reducing  it  to  scrap-iron  and  kindling 
wood. 

Next  came  the  telegraph,  walking  in,  as  it  were, 
52 


AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN       53 

on  tiptoe,  doing  its  work  without  attracting  any  at 
tention,  ignoring  race  and  creed  by  utilizing  the  walls 
of  the  houses  of  Jews  and  Gentiles  alike ;  while 
neither  church  nor  synagogue  escaped  from  its 
unholy  contact. 

At  last  came  the  railroad;  it  had  threatened  to 
come  for  nearly  twenty  years,  yet  had  been  success 
fully  kept  out  in  one  way  and  then  in  another,  but 
now  it  was  really  here,  with  its  whiz,  puff,  snort,  and 
bang.  It  was  a  tiny  little  railroad,  but  it  was  large 
enough  and  strong  enough  to  carry  the  pious  folk 
of  Kottowin  far  out  into  the  world,  as  well  as  to 
bring  the  world  and  something  of  its  spirit  into  the 
most  secluded  spot  of  the  town.  It  was  difficult  for 
the  Eabbi  to  tell  just  wherein  the  thresher,  the  tele 
graph,  and  the  railroad  had  affected  the  piety  of  his 
flock ;  but  he  made  no  uncertain  complaint  about  the 
institution  which  had  come  in  the  wake  of  those 
modern  inventions — the  afore-mentioned  barber's 
shop.  Almost  opposite  the  Eabbi' s  house,  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  the  synagogue,  over  the  door  of  a 
Jewish  dwelling,  appeared  the  symbol  of  this  institu 
tion — a  lathering  basin  of  brass — the  trade  mark  of 
the  barber's  calling. 

The  owner  of  the  shop,  strange  to  say,  was  a  prod 
uct  of  the  town ;  but  he  had  early  wandered  away 
from  it  to  become  a  barber  and  many  things  besides, 
in  the  gay  city  of  Vienna.  When  he  returned  to 
Kottowiu,  he  brought  not  only  his  trade,  never  be- 


54  THE  MEDIATOE 

fore  practiced  among  the  orthodox  Jews  of  that  holy 
town — for  the  prohibition  against  shaving  is  one  of 
the  13,500  laws  of  the  Talmud — but  he  also  brought 
an  ancient  circulating  library,  which  he  installed, 
and  a  large  assortment  of  perfectly  modern  vices 
which  he  practiced. 

He  created  a  great  sensation  when  he  entered  the 
synagogue  for  the  first  time,  in  his  stylish,  tight- 
fitting  clothes,  and  his  high  hat.  Underneath  the 
hat  appeared  his  red  curly  hair,  in  two  imposingly 
parted  waves,  held  firmly  down  by  a  liberal  applica 
tion  of  scented  pomade.  The  odour  of  his  perfumes 
filled  the  nostrils  of  the  young  women  in  the  gallery, 
making  them  conscious  that  a  new  factor  had  come 
into  their  lives. 

The  barber  listened  to  the  service  in  a  very  per 
functory  way,  while  he  constantly  trained  his  waxed 
moustache  with  a  little  ornamental  brush  which  he 
deftly  handled.  He  made  a  complete  conquest  of 
the  young  women,  who  had  never  seen  his  like  or 
even  dreamt  of  such  as  he,  not  having  yet  read  the 
novels  he  had  imported. 

The  boys  soon  became  devotees  of  the  shop,  and 
not  only  had  their  faces  shaved,  but  their  hair  cut, 
according  to  the  latest  fashion.  When  the  Eabbi 
saw  them,  with  their  smooth  cheeks,  waxed  mous 
taches  and  hair  parted  in  wavy  locks,  he  lifted  up  his 
voice  and  lamented  as  if  the  Temple  had  fallen  anew 
beneath  the  Eomans'  conquering  battering  rams,  or 


AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN       55 

the  choice  remnant  of  Israel  had  been  carried  into 
Babylonian  captivity. 

Well  might  the  Eabbi  weep  and  lament,  for  the 
shaving,  the  breaking  of  one  law,  led  to  the  breaking 
of  nearly  all  those  which  interfered  with  human 
pleasure  and  which  controlled  natural  passions. 

Here  the  youths  learned  how  to  roll  cigarettes  and 
smoke  them,  how  to  wind  about  gracefully  in  the 
latest  Viennese  waltzes,  and  many  other  inventions 
of  this  civilization,  which  help  humanity  to  go  more 
gracefully  and  more  swiftly  to  the  devil. 

Thus  thought  the  Eabbi,  who  knew  all  that  was 
going  on  in  the  barber-shop  and  out  of  it,  who  had  a 
catalogue  of  all  the  books  which  were  for  rent,  and  of 
all  the  vices  which  were  practiced  there.  But,  alas ! 
the  devotees  of  the  barber-shop  also  knew  what  was 
going  on  in  the  Eabbi' s  home,  and  as  each  event  was 
critically  commented  upon,  his  influence  was  thus 
undermined.  When  his  cow  sank  into  the  mire  on 
the  day  of  the  Feast  of  Tabernacles,  and  the  Eabbi 
asked  aid  for  the  rescue  of  the  precious  animal  from 
the  men  who  were  then  seeking  the  solution  of  per 
plexing  questions  of  the  law,  there  appeared  the  next 
day  on  the  bulletin  board  of  the  synagogue  the  fol 
lowing,  whose  author  was  the  barber. 

With  measured  step  and  pious  mien, 
Walked  the  Rabbi  of  holy  Kottowin  ; 
But,  as  his  thoughts  the  law  digested, 
An  anxious  throng  his  peace  molested. 


56  THE  MEDIATOR 

The  people  cried  in  highest  pitch  : 
"  A  cow  lies  floundering  in  the  ditch  ; 
Rabbi,  this  day  of  holy  feast  — 
Say,  may  we  try  to  save  the  beast?  " 

"  To-day,"  said  the  Rabbi  of  Kottowin, 
With  long  drawn  words  and  pious  mien, 
"  You  may  not  pull  her  from  the  mire, 
Unless  you  rouse  Jehovah's  ire." 

" Too  bad  to  leave  a  cow  to  die," 
Continued  the  people  with  anxious  cry, 
"  A  finer  cow  we've  never  seen 
Graze  on  the  pastures  of  Kottowin." 

"Whose  cow  ?  "  said  the  Rabbi  of  Kottowin, 
With  quick  drawn  breath  and  anxious  mien, 
"  Your  cow  !  "     "  My  cow  ?    Oh,  haste  to  save 
My  precious  cow  from  the  miry  grave." 

Ye  Judges,  Preachers,  Rabbis  all, 
Who  judge  the  world  since  Adam's  fall, 
It  seems  that  when  you  judge  a  sin, 
It  matters  much  whose  cow  fell  in. 

Every  man  who  went  to  prayers  read  it ;  the  small 
boys  learned  it  by  heart,  and  in  its  way  it  wrought 
as  much  havoc  as  a  certain  historic  thesis  which  was 
nailed  to  the  cathedral  doors  of  Wittenberg. 

To  make  matters  still  worse  for  the  piety  of  Kot 
towin,  the  State  ordered  the  organization  of  public 
schools,  where  profane  knowledge  was  to  be  taught 
in  the  native  vernacular,  so  the  influence  of  the 
Wonder  Eabbi  was  steadily  waning  and  the  spell  of 
the  Talmud  was  losing  its  power. 

Samuel  had  long  ago  been  parted  from  Suszka, 
who  had  to  leave  his  father's  house,  because  pious 


AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN       57 

and  busy  tongues  were  kept  wagging  about  her  re 
ligious  influence  upon  the  boy.  She  was  cast  out  of 
Abraham's  home  almost  like  Hagar  in  the  long  ago  ; 
only  she  had  to  go  without  the  child.  It  is  true  that 
she  was  loth  to  leave  the  comforts  of  that  home  and 
return  to  her  peasant  hut  and  hard  labour.  She  had 
grown  fond  of  the  kosher  food,  for  Jewish  piety  and 
good  eating  go  hand  in  hand  j  but  she  was  most  sor 
rowful  because  she  must  leave  the  boy,  whom  she 
loved  as  if  he  were  her  own.  The  parting  between 
the  two  was  a  painful  experience,  which  neither  of 
them  was  likely  to  forget. 

When  Abraham  told  Suszka  that  she  must  go,  it 
mattered  not  that  she  wildly  cried,  "Schma  Jsrael ! 
Hear,  oh,  Israel ! "  for  when  her  grief  really  over 
whelmed  her,  she  also  called  on  "  Jesus,  Mary  and 
Joseph"  a  combination  of  names  particularly  ob 
noxious  to  pious  Jews.  So  Abraham  hardened  his 
heart  against  her  tears  and  against  the  plaint  of  his 
boy,  and  Suszka  went  back  to  her  native  village. 

A  widowed  sister  of  Abraham  came  to  take 
Suszka' s  place — a  woman  of  scrupulous  piety,  who, 
in  order  to  make  the  house  kosher,  scrubbed  and 
rubbed  every  place  that  the  Gentile  nurse  had 
touched.  This  sister,  although  pious,  was  without 
affection,  and  as  scrupulous  Jewish  piety  unteni- 
pered  by  love  is  particularly  hard  on  little  boys, 
Samuel  felt  the  rigour  of  the  law  as  he  never  had 
felt  it  before. 


58  THE  MEDIATOR 

Snszka's  Christian  charity  had  covered  many  of 
the  lad's  sins  of  omission ;  his  prayers  had  been 
curtailed  by  her  turning  three  leaves  of  the  Prayer 
Book  at  a  time,  and  the  strain  of  fast  days  had  been 
relieved  by  her  discovering  the  first  star  at  the 
very  moment  when  Samuel  was  desperately  hungry, 
whether  the  sun  was  still  shining  or  not.  Now,  this 
was  all  changed.  Early  in  the  morning,  in  the  cold 
room,  he  was  compelled  to  say  all  his  prayers  by 
candle-light — from  fifteen  to  twenty  pages  of  fine 
Hebrew  print,  and  then  he  had  to  bend  his  young 
back  to  the  study  of  the  Talmud. 

Imagine  a  boy  of  ten  studying  a  voluminous  work, 
written  in  a  mixture  of  Semitic  languages  and  con 
taining  comments  on  the  law  of  Moses  and  inter 
pretations  of  it ;  these  comments  and  interpretations 
commented  upon  in  turn  by  twenty  generations  of 
men  who  were  bound  to  that  work,  and  who  dared 
not  let  daylight  fall  upon  the  pages  they  studied. 
They  made  this  book  their  pleasure-ground  and  their 
battlefield ;  here  they  played  with  holy  themes  and 
struggled  with  them  as  if  they  were  balls  or  bullets ; 
here  were  developed  faith  and  doubt,  fanaticism  and 
frivolity,  rationalism  and  mysticism,  the  most  solemn 
truth  and  the  most  palpable  falsehoods. 

Into  the  labyrinthine  mazes  of  these  teachings  the 
sensitive  boy  was  forced  to  enter  day  by  day. 
Questions  of  divorce,  the  washing  of  hands,  and 
what  to  do  with  an  egg  laid  on  the  Sabbath  day, 


AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN       59 

were  propounded  to  him — questions  which  he  did 
not  understand,  or  care  to  understand. 

Only  here  and  there,  like  diamonds  in  vast  dig 
gings,  did  he  discover  thoughts  which  echoed  in  his 
young  soul  and  which  seemed  to  awaken  slumbering 
recollections  within  him.  Then  his  mind  wandered 
far  from  the  Talmud  to  Suszka's  village,  to  Anka,  to 
the  music  of  the  Mass.  He  was  usually  roused  from 
these  dreams  by  the  ungentle  touch  of  his  father, 
and  mechanically  he  would  lift  up  his  voice  and 
drone  away,  repeating  sentences  whose  meaning  he 
did  not  fathom,  and  thoughts  which  were  strange 
to  his  spirit,  and  always  would  remain  strangers 
to  it. 

Doubt  came  very  early  into  his  soul,  torturing  him 
by  questions  which  neither  he  nor  his  father  could 
answer.  One  day,  when  his  questioning  went  too 
close  to  the  marrow  of  faith,  his  father  told  him  the 
story  of  "Elisa  ben  Abuja,"  who,  instead  of  study 
ing  the  Talmud,  studied  Greek  philosophy,  who 
carried  underneath  his  coat  a  copy  of  Homer,  and 
who  finally  became  a  traitor  to  his  faith  and  to  his 
people. 

"  Samuel,  my  boy  " — and  Abraham  said  it  with  all 
the  agony  which  a  father  can  feel  who  scents  danger 
to  his  child — "  believe,  and  do  not  ask  questions 
which  no  one  can  answer.  Do  not  be  carried  away 
by  what  you  learn  in  the  public  school  from  profane 
teachers,  or  you  will  be  like  Elisa  ben  Abuja,  who 


60  THE  MEDIATOE 

was  cast  out  of  the  synagogue,  and  whose  memory  is 
cursed  to  this  day." 

Then  Samuel  remembered  that  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement  forgiveness  is  offered  to  every  one  except 
to  Eabbi  ben  Abuja,  who  had  asked  questions  and 
read  Homer. 

The  public  school,  which  about  that  time  was  es 
tablished  in  Kottowin,  opened  to  Samuel  new  win 
dows  into  life,  bringing  him  in  touch  with  a  language 
of  culture  instead  of  the  corrupt  Yiddish,  with  his 
tory  which  had  back  of  it  certain  facts  rather  than 
myths,  and  with  a  literature  which  dealt  with  life 
and  love  rather  than  with  law  and  duty. 

His  full  liberation  came,  however,  when  he  stepped 
over  the  threshold  of  the  barber's  shop  and  began  to 
read  the  novels  which  he  carried  home.  Yellow- 
covered  and  tainted  literature  it  was;  the  dime 
novel  literature  of  the  day,  which  stimulated  and 
over-stimulated  his  imagination ;  but  at  the  same 
time  broke  the  bonds  that  held  him  to  that  ancient 
prison-house — the  Talmud. 

He  flew  through  the  forest  with  the  robber  chief, 
who  carried  upon  his  horse,  close  pressed  to  his  side, 
a  rich  princess  taken  from  her  castle.  It  was  not  the 
princess  and  her  agony,  nor  the  ferocity  of  the  chief, 
which  appealed  to  Samuel ;  but  he  breathed  in  the 
atmosphere  of  the  forest,  he  saw  the  bending  boughs 
and  twined  branches  which  impeded  the  hero's  prog 
ress.  The  strength  and  daring  of  the  man,  and  the 


AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN        61 

freedom  of  his  life — these  things  stimulated  and 
helped  the  boy.  The  poison  in  it  all  he  did  not 
taste ;  for  he  was  yet  in  Paradise.  His  sympathy, 
it  is  true,  was  on  the  side  of  the  robber ;  but  that  was 
because  he  was  kind  to  the  poor,  and  wronged  only 
those  who  could  easily  spare  what  he  took  from  their 
abundance.  Samuel  read  these  books  at  night  by 
the  light  from  stolen  candle-ends,  which  he  fastened 
on  to  his  thumb  nails  with  the  drippings  of  the 
tallow,  guiding  the  light  hither  and  thither  along 
the  fine  print  until  the  flickering  flame  burned 
too  severely.  Then  in  the  darkness  he  would  seek 
his  bed  and  dream  of  Einaldo  Einaldini,  an  Italian 
bandit-chief,  whose  romantic  career  he  had  fol 
lowed,  or  of  Preciosa,  a  gypsy  princess,  or  of 
Schinder  Hannes,  the  Eobin  Hood  of  the  German 
forest. 

One  night  his  heavy  eyes  closed  before  the  candle 
had  consumed  itself,  and  it,  too,  nodded  and  fell 
upon  his  books,  setting  fire  to  them.  His  father  was 
wakened  by  his  cry  of  pain,  for  his  hand  was  badly 
burned.  Then  came  swift,  sure,  and  terrible  pun 
ishment  ;  Samuel  sobbed  himself  to  sleep,  and  all 
through  the  night  he  moaned  and  tossed. 

Abraham  did  not  sleep,  for  the  boy's  pain  had 
crept  into  his  own  heart,  and  he  prayed  the  only 
prayer  he  could  offer  that  night — that  his  son  might 
be  kept  from  the  fate  of  Elisa  ben  Abuja. 

The  candle-ends  were  put  out  of  harm's  way,  and 


62  THE  MEDIATOR 

Samuel  stole  as  many  moments  as  he  could,  to  spend 
in  the  barber's  shop  with  the  books,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  when  his  father  discovered  him  there  he 
would  drag  him  out  of  the  place  by  the  ears,  to  the 
amusement  of  the  barber's  customers. 

One  day  when  Abraham  had  discovered  Samuel  in 
his  usual  haunt  and,  giving  way  to  his  now  easily 
roused  temper,  had  punished  him  before  the  gaping 
crowd,  the  barber  interfered,  pouring  upon  Abraham 
the  vials  of  his  wrath  with  as  great  deftness  as  if  he 
were  pouring  hair  oil  over  the  head  of  one  of  his 
helpless  victims  in  the  barber's  chair.  His  anger 
had  in  it  all  the  pungency  of  the  perfumes  of  his 
trade,  while  the  sharpness  of  his  tongue  was  un 
equalled  even  by  that  of  his  scissors ;  for  they  occa 
sionally  refused  to  cut — his  tongue  never. 

"Beb  Abraham,"  he  began  reverently,  "you  are 
an  old  fogy,  begging  your  pardon,  and  your  brain  is 
as  muddy  as  is  the  creek  when  the  Pany  bathes  his 
swine  in  it.  If  you  think  you  can  make  a  Talmud 
scholar  out  of  Samuel,  you  are  a  fool  as  well  as 
a  fogy,  Eeb  Abraham — begging  your  pardon.  You 
can  make  a  Talmud  scholar  out  of  a  dunce  whose 
brain  is  like  a  sponge,  but  not  out  of  a  boy  like  your 
Samuel,  who  has  a  brain  as  sharp  as  steel  and  as 
tender  as  a  cherry  in  June.  Your  Talmud,  Eeb 
Abraham,  is  a  back  number,  and  less  interesting  to 
a  boy  than  are  the  tables  of  contents  of  my  novels, 
and  I'll  wager  that  the  time  will  come  when  a  Tal- 


AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN       63 

mud  in  Kottowin  will  be  as  rare  as  women  up  there 
in  the  Christians'  monastery. 

"My  novels  are  not  deep,  but,  bless  your  good 
soul,  they  are  not  muddy  like  your  Talmud,  and  as 
far  as  the  lies  in  them  are  concerned,  it's  six  of  one 
and  half  a  dozen  of  the  other.  You  and  the  Eabbi 
would  both  be  better  off  if  you'd  read  them ;  they 
would  refresh  your  fossilized  brains  and  you  would 
know  what  life  in  this  age  means." 

Abraham,  who  was  still  shaken  by  the  wrath  which 
overtook  him  when  he  punished  his  boy,  led  him  out 
by  the  ear,  calling  back  to  the  barber  as  he  went : 
"You  are  an  Epicurean  and  an  Apostate;  you  are 
the  ruin  of  our  congregation,  and  if  you  are  not 
struck  by  apoplexy  you  will  be  hanged,  or  will  die 
some  other  unnatural  death.  If  I  find  my  boy  in 
here  again,  I'll  break  every  bone  in  his  body  ! " 

Samuel,  nevertheless,  continued  his  visits  to  the  bar 
ber' s  shop,  stealthily,  of  course,  and  devoured  novel 
after  novel  until  they  had  all  left  their  mark  upon 
his  impressionable  brain.  Then  he  struck  the  real 
gold  mine  of  the  barber's  library,  a  volume  of  selected 
poems  from  Homer  to  Heine ;  and,  although  he  did 
not  grasp  their  meaning,  he  caught  their  music  and 
the  fervour  and  fire  of  their  passion ;  for  he  was 
growing  old  enough  to  respond  to  some  of  their 
moods. 

Schiller's  "^Resignation,"  which  had  proved  dan 
gerous  to  many  a  youth  of  his  temperament,  awak- 


64  THE  MEDIATOR 

ened  anything  but  resignation  in  him  ;  for,  when  he 
read : 

"  Yes,  even  I  was  in  Arcadia  born, 
And  in  mine  infant  ears 
A  vow  of  rapture  was  by  natnre  sworn  ; 
Yes,  even  I  was  in  Arcadia  born, 
And  yet  my  short  spring  gave  me  only  tears," 

he  realized  how  far  he  was  from  his  Arcadia  and 
how  the  prison  walls  of  the  Talmud  and  the  narrow 
ing  life  of  Kottowin  were  closing  around  him.  At 
such  times  he  would  repeat  over  and  over  again  these 
lines  from  Wilhelni  Tell : 

"O  wherefore  stand  I  here  in  fetters  bonnd, 
Helpless,  while  endless  passions  stir  my  soul?  " 

This  book  of  poetry  completely  took  the  place  of 
his  Prayer  Book,  and  in  the  morning  he  bent  over  it, 
mumbling  Hebrew  phrases ;  while  his  eyes  sought 
the  passion  and  fire  of  Heine's  songs  and  his  mind 
was  being  carried  along  by  Goethe's  "Faust,"  down 
to  the  depths  of  hell  and  up  as  far  towards  heaven  as 
he  ever  rose. 

Such  deception  had  its  perils,  and  the  inevitable 
catastrophe  occurred  when  his  father's  eyes  caught 
the  unfamiliar  letters  of  the  page  from  which  he  was 
mumbling  the  morning  prayer. 

All  the  pent-up  sorrow,  all  the  suspicions  of  years, 
all  the  pain  of  disappointment  clutched  Abraham's 
heart  simultaneously,  and  drove  the  blood  to  his 
brain.  Lifting  his  arm,  he  struck  the  defenseless 


AWAKENING  OF  SAMUEL  COHEN       66 

boy  so  terrible  a  blow  that  he  fell  and  did  not 
rise.  Then,  in  his  wild  anger,  Abraham  kicked  the 
prostrate  body,  and  tore  the  book  to  shreds,  crying 
wildly,  while  the  hot  tears  poured  over  his  wrinkled 
cheeks :  "  Elisa  ben  Abuja,  Elisa  ben  Abuja ;  I  shall 
go  to  my  grave  and  have  no  son  to  say  Kadish  (the 
prayer  for  the  dead),  and  no  Cohen  will  be  left  to 
bless  the  people.  .  .  .  Elisa  ben  Abuja,  Elisa 
ben  Abuja!" 


VI 
DR.  ROSNIK  PRESCRIBES 

HUDDLED  close  to  the  prostrate  form  of  his 
son,  lay  Abraham.  His  sudden  anger  had 
stirred  the  fountain  of  grief,  and  like 
heavy  clouds  the  pain  of  it  all  hung  over  him,  un 
able  alike  to  be  dispelled  or  to  express  itself  in  tears. 

"Samuel,  my  own,  my  only  son,  given  to  me  of 
God;  hear  me,  Samuel,  and  you  will  forgive  your 
old  father  for  being  so  cruel  to  you  ! "  He  moaned 
it  out,  and  each  word  wrung  his  heart,  ready  to 
break  from  the  weight  of  its  anguish. 

Samuel  heard  his  father,  and  felt  the  clutching  of 
his  nervous  hand,  but  he  neither  moved  nor  an 
swered  him  ;  for  a  cloud  hung  over  him  also,  and  it 
seemed  to  blot  out  his  father's  face  from  him  forever. 

"  Samuel,  answer  me,  my  own  golden  boy,  an 
swer  me!  "Won't  you  forgive  your  old  father,  who 
loves  you  more  than  his  life — who  struck  you  in 
mad  anger,  roused  by  his  zeal  for  the  Law  of  God  t 
Answer  me,  Samuel ! "  and  his  hands  sought  the 
boy's  heart  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  beating, 
while  his  ear  was  strained  to  catch  his  breathing, 
and  then  to  hear  the  liberating  word  of  forgiveness ; 
but  although  Samuel's  heart  beat  fiercely  and  his 
breath  came  quickly,  his  teeth  were  clenched,  his 

66 


DR.  ROSNIK  PRESCRIBES  67 

eyes  were  closed,  and  the  lamentations  of  his  father 
passed  over  him  unheeded.  When  his  head  was 
bathed  in  cold  water  and  he  was  lifted  from  the  floor 
to  the  bed,  he  neither  yielded  nor  resisted. 

The  physician  who  had  at  once  been  sent  for  came 
at  last — a  pompous,  self-important  looking  man  who 
had  long  ago  ceased  living  like  the  Jews,  though  he 
was  living  off  them.  He  always  dealt  sarcastically 
with  their  religious  scruples,  and  never  lost  an  op 
portunity  to  hit  their  foibles  a  hard  blow  just  when 
they  were  most  at  his  mercy  and  in  no  mood  for 
argument.  Because  of  this  he  was  cordially  hated 
by  those  who  did  not  understand  him,  and  was  em 
ployed  simply  because  he  was  the  only  physician  in 
Kottowin,  and  there  only  by  the  grace  of  the  State, 
consequently,  not  dependent  upon  the  favour  of  the 
people. 

"Reb  Abraham,  good-morning  to  you!"  "With 
that  he  lifted  his  high  hat  and  remained  with  bared 
head,  which  was  neither  his  last  nor  his  least  offense 
against  Jewish  law  and  custom. 

"  Good-morning,  Dr.  Rosnik,"  responded  Abra 
ham,  pointing  sorrowfully  to  Samuel. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  boy?"  asked  the 
doctor.  "  I  suppose  he  has  eaten  too  many  Sabbath 
beans ;  I'll  give  him  some  physic.  Reb  Abraham, 
you  can  eat  a  whole  pot  of  beans  and  not  feel  a  bit 
of  pain,  God  be  praised  for  that !  but  you  are  a 
good  orthodox  Jew.  The  present  generation  can't 


68  THE  MEDIATOE 

digest  kosher  food,  and  Sabbath  beans  are  as  hard 
on  our  boys'  stomachs  as  the  Talmud  is  on  their 
brains.  On  Mondays,  Eeb  Abraham,  I  have  to  go 
from  house  to  house  prescribing  for  the  digestion, 
and  on  Fridays  I  am  called  to  the  same  patients  to 
prescribe  for  their  nerves — physic  to  drive  out  the 
beans,  and  bromo  to  drive  out  the  Talmud.  Judaism 
makes  them  all  sick,  whether  they  take  it  into  their 
stomachs  or  into  their  brains.  Heine  used  to  say — 
you  don't  know  who  Heine  was,  Eeb  Abraham? 
Heine  was  as  kosher  a  Jew  as  ever  lived  ;  for  al 
though  he  was  baptized,  he  was  as  kosher  a  Jew  as 
St.  Florian ;  well,  Heine  said  once  that  the  hospital 
in  Hamburg  was  for  people  suffering  from  three 
diseases  :  Bodily  ill,  old  age,  and  Judaism.  He  was 
right,  Eeb  Abraham,  and,  to  my  mind,  Judaism  is 
the  worst  disease  of  the  three,  since  it  is  incurable." 

Abraham,  interrupting  this  flow  of  words,  told  all 
that  had  happened,  shamefacedly  confessing  his  mis 
deed  ;  and  while  the  doctor  searched  for  some  evi 
dences  of  an  injury  he  began  to  speak  again  in  that 
pompous  and  sarcastic  way — at  the  same  time  puffing 
at  a  cigarette. 

""Well,  this  boy,  as  I  told  you,  is  suffering  from 
too  much  Judaism,  even  if  he  isn't  suffering  from  too 
much  beans,  and  it  hurts,  as  I  told  you,  on  the  out 
side  and  on  the  inside.  A  Jewish  boy,  as  soon  as  he 
begins  to  walk,  has  clods  and  stones  thrown  at  him 
by  the  Christian  boys,  and  when  they  catch  him 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  69 

alone,  they  beat  him  half  to  death.  That  hurts  on 
the  outside,  but  he  gets  used  to  it ;  for  all  his  life  he 
gets  mackes  (beatings),  and  a  man  gets  used  to  every 
thing,  even  to  niacJces.  Now  that  same  boy,  the  very 
first  day  he  is  old  enough  to  go  to  the  synagogue,  is 
cuffed  by  his  father  if  he  doesn't  keep  his  place  in 
the  Prayer  Book,  if  his  eyes  wander  up  to  the  gal 
lery,  or  if  he  begins  to  count  the  spots  on  the  syna 
gogue  ceiling. 

"Outside  the  synagogue,  he  is  cuffed  if  he  grows 
tired  of  the  Talmud  and  is  caught  reading  a  novel  or 
a  poem,  something  that  has  flesh  and  blood  to  it. 
Now,  cuffs  of  that  kind  hurt  on  the  inside,  way  down 
deep  ;  they  hurt  a  long  time,  and  some  boys  never 
get  over  it,  if  they  live  a  hundred  years.  Eeb 
Abraham,  you  have  hurt  your  boy  on  the  inside. 

"  I  can't  give  him  any  medicine,  but  I  am  going  to 
give  you  a  piece  of  good  advice.  Send  that  boy  of 
yours  to  college— and  I'll  tell  you  what  will  happen 
if  you  don't  send  him." 

He  paused  and  looked  at  the  boy,  whose  face  was 
set  like  a  flint,  who  seemed  neither  to  hear  nor  to  see, 
yet  whose  every  nerve  was  intensely  alert.  Then  the 
doctor  whispered  in  Abraham's  ear,  and  Abraham's 
face  grew  livid  from  newly-awakened  fear,  auger  and 
grief.  Samuel's  features  seemed  to  relax  for  a  mo 
ment  and  then  grew  rigid  again  as  if  clouds  had  ob- 
Bcured  a  momentary  glimpse  of  the  sun. 

"  Doctor,  it  is  easy  for  you  to  talk,"  Abraham  re 


70  THE  MEDIATOE 

plied  huskily.  "You  can  send  your  son  to  college 
without  fearing  that  he  will  become  an  apostate,  be 
cause  he  is  one  already  ;  you  did  not  even  have  him 
circumcised — but  my  Samuel  was  given  me  in  answer 
to  the  prayer  of  the  sainted  Eabbi  of  Cracow,  that 
another  Cohen  might  stand  before  the  Ark  and  bless 
the  people  until  the  Messiah  shall  come  to  redeem 
Israel  and  lead  the  faithful  back  to  Palestine." 

"  Eeb  Abraham,"  replied  the  doctor,  giving  his 
sarcastic  smile  full  play;  "if  that  sainted  Eabbi  of 
Cracow  had  been  a  real  live  Eabbi — well,  then  I 
would  have  said,  you  are  right,  Samuel  was  born  in 
answer  to  his  prayer  ;  but  a  dead  Eabbi,  hmp  !  "  he 
shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously.  "As  for 
your  being  anxious  about  having  a  Levite  bless 
Israel — fifty  years  from  now  they  won't  care,  even  in 
Kottowin,  whether  there  ever  was  a  Levite,  or  whether 
they  ever  are  blessed.  The  world  moves,  Eeb  Abra 
ham,  even  in  Kottowin,  and  it  moves  fast  since  we 
got  the  railroad,  the  telegraph,  and  the  barber'  s-shop. ' ' 

Then  he  laughed  at  his  own  joke,  slapped  his  knee, 
lighted  another  cigarette,  and  blowing  the  smoke 
into  Abraham's  drawn  face,  continued  :  "And  as  far 
as  the  Messiah  is  concerned,  he  has  come  already. 
Civilization  is  our  Messiah — the  railroad,  the  tele 
graph,  and  the  barber's  shop  are  the  Messiah  ;  that 
barber's  shop  has  done  more  to  redeem  Israel  from  the 
bondage  of  Kottowin  than  any  king  who  would  come 
riding  on  an  ass.  We  have  too  many  asses  and  too 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  71 

many  kings,  anyway.  And  about  that  going  back 
to  Palestine,  Eeb  Abraham,  you  would  starve  to 
death  in  Palestine ;  it's  a  land  which  is  flowing  in 
misery  and  poverty,  not  with  milk  and  honey. 
America  is  our  Palestine,  and  if  the  Jews  go  any 
where  they  will  go  to  America — they  are  beginning 
to  go  there  now." 

Then,  again  feeling  the  pulse  of  the  boy,  he  said  : 
"  Samuel  is  suffering  from  too  much  Judaism — he  is 
hurt  on  the  inside  ;  send  him  to  Trnava  to  college. 
Those  teachers  will  take  a  good  bit  of  it  out  of  him. 

"You  know,  Eeb  Abraham,  that  I  changed  my 
name  from  Eosenzweig  to  Eosnik.  I  don't  go  to  the 
synagogue  and  I  eat  pork  ;  yet  every  Gentile  whose 
tongue  I  look  at  to  see  if  he  has  a  fever,  calls  me, 
with  that  same  tongue,  '  dirty  Jew.'  I  named  my 
boy  Sigismund,  and  had  him  baptized  by  a  priest ; 
yet  the  boys  cry  after  him,  'Hep  hep,'  just  as  they 
do  after  you. 

"  Heine  was  right ;  Judaism  is  an  incurable  dis 
ease.  Bodily  ills  can  be  cured  by  physic ;  old  age 
doesn't  hurt  always  ;  but  Judaism  can't  be  driven 
out  by  physic  nor  by  baptismal  water  ;  it  hurts  all 
the  time  outside  and  inside." 

Abraham  was  violently  shaking  his  head  at  what 
seemed  blasphemy  to  him,  and  at  the  thought  of 
sending  his  boy  to  a  school  in  which  secular  knowl 
edge  was  taught  by  Catholic  priests. 

"  You  won't  send  him  to  college  1 "  the  doctor  re- 


72  THE  MEDIATOE 

plied  to  Abraham's  emphatic  negative.  "  I  have 
told  you  what  will  happen  if  you  don't.  How  do  I 
know  I  Listen,  and  I  will  tell  you. 

11 1  knew  a  boy  thirty  years  ago  whose  father  was 
as  orthodox  as  you  are,  and  who  thought  that  the 
Talmud  was  the  beginning  of  the  universe  and  the 
end  of  it.  The  boy  wasn't  six  years  of  age  when  his 
father  began  teaching  him  the  Talmud,  just  as  you 
did,  and  as  thousands  of  other  Jewish  fathers  have 
done.  That  boy  cared  as  much  for  the  Talmud  as 
any  healthy  boy  ought  to  care  for  it,  and  he  hated 
Eabbi  Hillel  and  Eabbi  Gamaliel  and  the  other 
15,000  rabbis  who  are  quoted  in  those  books.  He 
loved  the  birds  and  the  trees  and  the  dogs,  and  the 
boys  who  could  play  ball  with  him.  That  father  did 
just  what  you  have  done  ;  he  tried  to  pound  the 
Talmud  into  the  boy,  and  the  more  he  pounded  the 
boy  the  more  the  boy  despised  the  Talmud  and  its 
thirteen  thousand,  five  hundred  laws ;  and  the  more 
he  loved  to  run  after  the  birds,  and  the  dogs  and  all 
the  things  that  live. 

"  One  day,  instead  of  studying  the  Talmud,  he  was 
out  on  the  street,  and  brought  home  a  dog  whose  leg 
the  boys  had  broken  as  they  stoned  him  ;  he  bound 
up  the  leg,  and  put  the  dog  into  his  bed.  At  this 
his  mother  pounded  him  for  soiling  the  bed  and 
ruining  her  towels,  and  then  the  father  nearly  beat 
the  life  out  of  him  for  running  after  live  dogs  when 
he  should  have  been  studying  about  dead  Rabbis. 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  73 

That  night  the  boy  left  home  without  a  kopek — 
walked  all  night  and  all  day  to  Trnava,  where  he 
was  picked  up  on  the  streets,  half-starved.  He  was 
picked  up,  Eeb  Abraham,  by  a  Catholic  priest,  who 
wanted  to  give  him  food  ;  but  so  deep  had  the  Talmud 
been  driven  into  him  that  he  would  have  starved 
rather  than  eat  food  which  was  not  kosher. 

"That  priest  went  with  the  boy  from  one  Jewish 
home  to  another,  to  secure  a  place  where  he  might 
eat  just  one  meal  each  day,  one  meal  each  day,  and 
each  day  in  a  different  house.  Eeb  Abraham,  you 
know  what  that  means,  going  from  house  to  house 
and  living  on  charity — charity  often  grudgingly  be 
stowed.  Many  a  day  he  had  nothing  but  potatoes 
and  a  hard  crust  of  bread,  although  some  days  he 
lived  like  a  prince.  He  did  that  for  eight  years,  and 
during  all  that  time  his  father  didn't  send  him  a 
kopek,  and  never  wrote  to  him,  nor  did  he  allow  his 
name  to  be  mentioned  in  his  house. 

"  The  more  that  boy  suffered  the  more  he  learned  to 
hate  his  father  and  his  father's  faith,  to  which  he 
thought  he  owed  all  his  misery.  Eeb  Abraham,  I 
have  never  told  that  story  to  anybody,  because  it 
was  nobody's  business.  I  was  that  boy,  and  I  tell  it 
to  you  for  the  sake  of  your  own  boy. 

"  You  understand  now  why  I  didn't  have  my  son 
circumcised.  I  did  not  want  to  begin  to  hurt  him  as 
soon  as  he  was  born,  and  put  a  mark  on  his  body 
which  would  make  him  suffer  all  his  life.  Baptismal 


74  THE  MEDIATOR 

water  doesn't  hurt  the  body,  and  about  the  soul" 
— drumming  with  his  big  signet  ring  on  the  bed 
post — "  about  the  soul,  tra-la-la-la — I  know  that  men 
have  bowels,  but  souls — tra-la-la-la.  Eeb  Abraham, 
I  prescribe  for  bowels,  I  have  seen  bowels  j  but  a  soul 
— tra-la-la-la." 

With  that  he  lighted  another  cigarette,  and,  blow 
ing  the  smoke  again  into  Abraham's  face,  he  con 
tinued  :  "I  am  going  to  prescribe  for  your  boy  now, 
and  the  prescription  isn't  going  to  cost  you  a  kopek. 
Give  him  less  Talmud,  much  less,  and  let  him  have 
more  science  and  poetry,  as  much  as  he  wants,  and 
then  let  him  have  his  old  Suszka  for  a  while.  The 
boy  wants  a  woman's  care  and  love,  and  in  her  ample 
bosom  he  will  find  them.  Your  sister,  Eeb  Abraham, 
is  as  dry  as  mazzos  (unleavened  bread)  ;  she  knows 
all  the  blessings  in  the  Prayer  Book,  but  she  couldn't 
bless  a  boy  to  save  herself.  Let  him  have  less  Aunt 
and  more  Suszka,  and,  finally,  let  the  boy  go  to 
college  ;  if  you  won't — well,  I've  told  you  what  will 
happen. 

' '  There  is  no  charge  for  this,  no  charge — let  me  have 
my  hat ;  and,  remember,  less  Aunt  and  more  Suszka, 
less  law  and  more  love !  No,  Eeb  Abraham,  there 
is  no  charge  for  this."  And  as  he  went  out  he  con 
tinued  his  tantalizing  tra-la-la-la. 

When  Abraham  was  left  alone  with  his  child,  he 
threw  himself  beside  him  and  drew  the  unresisting 
boy  close  to  his  heart.  Then  the  tears  began  to  fall, 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  75 

hot,  heavy  tears,  drawn  from  the  burning  depths  of 
his  anguish-stricken  soul.  The  cloud  which  hung 
over  him  seemed  to  break  and  pass  away,  relieved 
of  its  heaviness.  The  cloud  which  hung  over  Samuel 
passed  also,  for  he  too  began  to  weep,  and  through 
the  tears  he  saw  again  the  face  of  his  father. 


vn 

THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL 

OUT  of  the  stifling  atmosphere  of  his  home, 
Samuel  went  in  the  morning  before  sunrise ; 
out  of  the  Jews'  street,  with  its  heavy  smells 
rising  from  the  gutters,  over  the  bridge  and  through 
the  toll-gate,  where  the  keeper  sat  sound  asleep,  pipe 
in  mouth,  with  his  feet  on  the  closed  barrier.  Once 
across,  Samuel  stood  still,  breathing  in,  as  if  he  were 
hungry  for  it,  the  fresh  air  which  came  from  the  hill 
top  and  through  the  pine  forest.  Then  he  ran  as  fast 
as  his  legs  could  carry  him,  and  as  the  heavy  bundle 
of  kosher  food  which  his  aunt  had  provided  would 
permit.  He  ran  for  the  sheer  joy  of  it,  plunging 
into  the  air  as  if  it  were  a  cooling  bath — so  good  did 
each  breath  feel,  so  joyously  did  he  hail  his  freedom. 
There  had  been  serious  objections  raised  to  his 
making  this  visit  to  Suszka ;  first  by  the  aunt,  who 
was  as  jealous  of  her  as  she  was  zealous  that  Samuel 
should  always  observe  the  law  to  the  letter  ;  and  last, 
though  not  least,  by  the  Eabbi  from  whose  spell  the 
generation  to  which  Abraham  belonged  had  not 
freed  itself.  Samuel,  however,  had  a  gypsy  nature, 
as  Abraham  called  it,  and  when  he  embraced  his 
father,  looking  at  him  with  those  wonderful  dark 

76 


THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL  77 

eyes,  and  stroking  his  wrinkled  face,  he  might  ask 
for  anything  in  his  father's  keeping  and  get  it ;  so  he 
was  permitted  to  go. 

It  was  just  before  the  returning  holidays,  the 
twelfth  time  they  would  have  come  since  Samuel's 
birth,  and  a  momentous  period  in  his  life,  when  he 
was  to  go  up  to  the  temple  and  dedicate  himself  to 
the  law. 

He  had  seen  Suszka  at  long  intervals,  when  she 
came  to  market,  or  on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy 
Shrine.  She  had  come  to  the  house  often  enough  not 
to  unlearn  her  pious  ejaculation,  "Schma  Jsrael!" 
mindful  always  not  to  finish  by  calling  on  "  Jesus, 
Mary,  and  Joseph."  She  came  regularly  at  Easter, 
with  Anka,  her  daughter,  and  always  brought  a 
switch,  with  which  she  gave  Samuel  the  customary 
beating,  done  in  memory  of  the  scourging  which 
Jesus  received  from  the  Jews ;  but  of  which  historic 
association  both  she  and  Samuel  were  ignorant. 
They  followed  the  custom  as  everybody  followed  it, 
in  a  mirthful  way,  being  released  only  by  a  payment 
of  eggs,  or,  on  Samuel's  part,  by  an  offering  of  mazzos 
(unleavened  bread)  or  Suszka' s  favourite  piece  of 
goose,  which  he  usually  saved  for  her,  knowing  her 
longings  after  the  "fleshpots  of  Egypt."  After  the 
beating,  Suszka  would  mother  the  boy  for  a  while, 
somewhere  in  the  wood-shed,  where  neither  the  father 
nor  the  aunt  could  see  them. 

Anka  was  growing  into  a  woman,  and,  when  she 


78  THE  MEDIATOE 

came,  something  sweet  and  mysterious  drew  Samuel 
to  her,  like  his  memory  of  the  music  of  that  mass,  or 
the  ringing  of  those  bells,  when  as  children  they 
stood  in  the  portals  of  the  village  church.  Now  he 
was  going  to  his  friends  for  three  long  days. 

The  chirping  of  the  sparrows  in  the  hedge  drew  a 
song  from  his  lips,  the  chant  of  the  Sabbath  bride ; 
but  even  that,  the  most  mirthful  of  the  synagogue 
tunes,  did  not  harmonize  with  his  joy  or  with  the 
joy  of  nature.  Then  there  came  to  him,  deep  out  of 
the  hidden  recesses  of  his  heart,  the  first  secular  song 
he  had  ever  learned — learned  secretly  in  the  barber's 
shop,  and  which  he  had  never  before  sung  aloud  and 
freely.  As  his  voice  rang  out,  the  birds  seemed  to 
vie  with  him,  so  joyous  was  his  song. 


"The  clear,  smiling  lake,  wooed  to  bathe  in  its  deep 
A  boy,  who  beside  it  had  lain  him  to  sleep. 
Then  heard  he  a  melody, 

Flowing  and  soft, 
And  sweet,  as  when  angels 

Are  singing  aloft  ; 

And,  as  thrilling  with  pleasure,  he  wakes  from  his  rest, 
The  waters  are  murmuring  over  his  breast, 
And  a  voice  from  the  deep  cries  : 

1  With  me  thou  must  go  ! 
I  charm  thee,  young  shepherd, 
I  lure  thee  below.'  " 


Something  seemed  to  lure  Samuel,  to  entrance  him, 
to  woo  him  and  win  him ;  something  far  away,  yet 
near  enough  almost  to  touch. 


THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL  79 

The  spell  which  held  him  was  broken  in  a  moment, 
however,  as  he  passed  the  Pany's  house  ;  for  here  he 
always  thought  of  the  stern  Jehovah,  typified  by  the 
Pany,  who  never  permitted  a  Jew  to  pass  his  gate 
unmolested.  This  time  it  was  his  pack  of  hunting 
dogs,  noses  to  the  ground  and  tails  in  the  air,  bark 
ing  wildly  as  they  charged  at  their  victim  and  met 
him  just  at  the  gate.  Following  them,  came  the 
Pany  himself,  a  grizzled  Nimrod,  his  face  like  copper, 
his  eyes  like  beads,  a  gun  over  his  shoulder.  More 
than  by  the  grizzled  face  looking  as  if  beaten  over 
with  copper,  Samuel  was  frightened  by  the  gun.  He 
had  an  instinctive  fear  of  it  long  before  he  knew  its 
deadly  purpose — the  fear  of  hunted  generations  trans 
mitting  to  him  the  dread  of  weapons.  No  rabbit, 
were  it  ever  so  wearied  in  the  race  before  it,  could 
have  felt  such  dread  as  his,  when  he  saw  the  gun 
and  the  hunter. 

Beside  the  Pany  walked  a  monk,  from  whose 
spiritual  face  shone  a  light  which  Samuel  knew  not 
yet ;  but  the  face  drew  him  as  if  it  were  the  face  of 
some  divinity  of  which  he  had  read  in  his  forbidden 
books. 

11  Good-bye,  Father  Antonius,"  said  the  Pany  to 
the  monk,  who  was  turning  to  follow  the  road  where 
Samuel  was  being  chased  by  the  dogs. 

"Good-bye,  my  son,"  replied  the  monk.  "Good 
luck  in  the  chase  ! " 

"No,  no  !  don't  you  wish  me  good  luck,  Father; 


80  THE  MEDIATOE 

a  monk's  good  luck  is  ill  luck  ;  but  good  luck  to  you 
in  your  chase  for  souls  !  After  all,  you  and  I  are  in 
the  same  business — I  go  hunting  for  rabbits,  you  go 
hunting  for  souls,  only — hello !  there  is  some  game 
my  dogs  have  chased  up,  a  Jew  boy.  Now  you'll  see 
some  fun." 

With  that  he  aimed  his  gun  at  the  frightened 
lad,  who  was  crying  at  the  top  of  his  voice — then, 
lifting  the  weapon  higher  into  the  air,  he  let  go  the 
trigger,  while  the  shot  rang  out  above  the  barking  of 
the  dogs,  who  were  pulling  at  the  boy's  bag,  smelling 
in  it  the  food  he  was  carrying. 

The  monk  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  in  his  long 
cassock,  chased  away  the  dogs,  and  putting  his  hand 
on  the  boy's  head  tried  to  quiet  him. 

"  That's  just  one  of  the  Pany's  bad  jokes,"  he  said. 
1  i  Don' t  be  afraid.  We  seem  to  be  going  the  same  way, 
come  along  ;  will  you  tell  me  where  you  are  going?  " 
He  took  the  boy's  hand  in  his — a  soft,  tender  touch 
it  was,  softer  than  any  woman's  hand  Samuel  had 
ever  felt.  When  he  told  the  monk  that  he  was  going 
to  see  his  nurse,  he  laughed  good-naturedly,  and 
said  :  "  You  are  a  big  lad  to  be  running  after  your 
nurse." 

Then  Samuel  told  him  of  his  mother's  death  and  of 
Suszka's  faithfulness. 

"Ah!  my  boy,  I  know  how  you  feel,"  the  monk 
said  tenderly;  "I,  too,  was  orphaned  as  a  child" — 
and  the  sympathy  that  his  voice  expressed  went 


THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL  81 

straight  to  Samuel's  heart  and  he  knew  that  he  was 
walking  beside  a  friend. 

The  monk  then  told  him  of  his  wanderings  as  a 
missionary.  He  had  been  in  Africa  among  the  black 
men,  had  sailed  many  a  sea  and  suffered  many  a 
hardship ;  yet  one  felt  that  he  had  remained  sweet, 
serene,  and  gentle. 

When  noon  came,  they  sat  down  under  a  tree, 
which  overshadowed  a  shrine ;  and  the  monk  crossed 
himself  and  said  his  prayers.  Samuel  offered  to 
share  with  him  his  bountiful  luncheon,  and  as  they 
ate  he  told  his  name  and  age — thirteen  next  Day  of 
Atonement,  when  he  would  become  a  son  of  the  law 
and  take  his  place  beside  his  father  to  bless  the 
people. 

Ah  me !  then  the  good  padre  drew  from  him  his 
secret;  his  clandestine  reading,  his  love  of  novels 
and  poetry,  and  his  longing  for  something — some 
thing,  which  he  could  not  express. 

After  they  had  eaten,  they  resumed  their  journey, 
and  the  nearer  they  came  to  Kunova  the  more  Sam 
uel  realized  that  he  was  in  unfriendly  territory.  A 
group  of  lads,  a  little  older  than  he,  ran  to  the  monk 
and  kissed  his  hand,  then  called  out  to  him  :  "Where 
did  you  get  that  Jew  bastard  ?  My,  how  he  stinks  ! 
Look  at  his  hands,  father !  There  is  Christian  blood 
on  them ! " 

Samuel  shrank  from  the  monk  as  well  as  from  the 
boys  who  were  closing  in  upon  him,  when  the  same 


82  THE  MEDIATOR 

gentle  voice  rescued  him  from  fear;  this  time  the 
monk  was  speaking  to  the  peasant  lads. 

"Boys,  where  in  your  catechism  have  you  learned 
that  you  were  to  be  cruel  to  strangers?  Who  has 
taught  you  that  damnable  lie  that  Jews  use  human 
blood  ?  You  are  committing  a  mortal  sin  for  which 
you  will  suffer  in  purgatory." 

"But,  father,  isn't  he  a  Jew  boy?"  the  lads 
replied. 

"Yes,  boys,  he  is  a  Jewish  boy  ;  but  nineteen  hun 
dred  years  ago  a  Jewish  boy,  just  his  age,  went  up 
to  the  Temple,  as  he  will  go  next  week,  and  that 
Jewish  boy  is  our  Saviour  over  there  on  the  cross. 
What  do  you  think  He  will  do  to  you  for  ill-treating 
His  relative !" 

There  was  an  incredulous  look  on  the  boys'  faces. 
"Yes,"  they  said,  "but  didn't  the  Jews  crucify 
Him?" 

"Yes,  they  did,  and  so  did  the  Eomans,  and  so  do 
you  every  day,  by  your  sins." 

Shamefacedly  the  boys  retreated,  and  Samuel,  with 
out  saying  a  word,  walked  with  the  monk  into  the 
village  towards  Suszka's  house,  where  rosemary  grew 
under  the  windows  and  where  St.  Florian  kept  his 
faithful  watch  over  the  doorway. 

Suszka  was  delighted  to  see  her  boy,  while  Anka 
shyly  retreated  and  had  to  be  lured  to  him  by  the 
goodies  he  had  brought.  When  her  shyness  had 
worn  off,  they  went  out  together  and  pretended  that 


THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL  83 

they  were  little  children  again,  climbing  up  under 
the  eaves,  watching  the  pigeons,  and  then  going  out 
into  the  field  to  help  bring  home  the  last  of  the  grain. 
High  on  top  of  the  load  of  wheat  they  sat,  while  the 
harvesters,  old  and  young,  men  and  women,  walked 
across  the  fields  and  through  the  long  village  street 
singing  songs  of  the  harvest. 

The  scent  of  the  dried  grasses  among  the  wheat, 
the  freshness  and  buoyancy  of  the  air,  the  love-songs 
of  the  harvesters,  and  Anka's  blooming  face,  with  its 
crown  of  golden  hair,  caused  Samuel  quickly  to  for 
get  the  Jews'  street,  with  its  mud,  its  open  sewers  and 
their  smells,  and  even  the  Talmud  lessons,  with  their 
entanglement  of  wisdom  and  folly.  He  felt  himself 
transported  into  another  world,  until  he  was  rudely 
brought  back  to  earth  by  the  boys  in  the  street  call 
ing  out  mockingly,  as  the  two  passed  by  :  "  Look  at 
the  wedding  couple,  Judas  and  his  bride;  he  has 
bought  her  with  the  thirty  pieces  of  silver."  Then 
they  broke  into  a  rhyme  : 

"  Anka  will  marry  a  Jew, 
And  he  will  marry  her  too  ; 
She'll  feed  him  on  pork, 
And  he'll  make  her  work. 
There'll  be  great  ado 
When  she  marries  a  Jew." 

Loud  laughter  from  the  harvesters  rewarded  the 
impromptu  rhyme,  and  all  eyes  were  fastened  upon 
the  children  ;  while  ahead  of  them  and  behind  them 


84  THE  MEDIATOE 

the  boys  and  girls  marched,  imitating  a  wedding 
procession,  led  by  the  musicians,  who  alternated  the 
rhyme  with  the  time-honoured  "Jew  march" — 
"Hep,  hep,  you  better  lively  step." 

Anka  hung  her  head  from  the  shame  of  it,  and 
Samuel  made  ready  to  slide  down  from  the  load  of 
grain ;  but  it  was  very  high,  and  his  study  of  the 
Talmud,  while  it  had  made  the  brain  nimble,  had 
left  the  limbs  short  and  heavy,  so  that  the  distance 
to  the  ground  seemed  doubly  great,  and  he  remained 
where  he  was. 

The  wide  gateway  leading  to  Suszka's  house  opened 
to  the  oxen  with  their  heavy  load,  and  Samuel  and 
Anka  were  released.  As  they  passed  over  the  thresh 
ing  floor,  Samuel  turned  abruptly  to  Anka  and  said 
with  the  breath  coming  fiercely  between  his  teeth  : 
"Anka,  when  I  am  big  will  you  marry  me  ?  "  Anka, 
holding  back  her  wide  skirts  as  if  something  were 
about  to  bite  her,  laughed  derisively  and  ran  from 
him,  crying  contemptuously  :  "  Marry  a  Jew  !  marry 
a  Jew!" 

When  night  came,  Suszka  and  Anka  announced 
that  they  were  going  to  church,  for  a  famous  preacher, 
a  Dominican  monk,  was  holding  a  mission.  Samuel 
was  to  go  to  bed — but  hardly  had  they  left  the  house 
when  he,  too,  followed  the  ringing  of  the  bells. 
Through  the  dark,  he  found  his  way  and  waited 
until  the  villagers  had  gathered  in  the  church. 
Then,  while  the  evening  songs  were  wafted  upon  the 


THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL  85 

air,  he  drew  nearer  and  nearer  until  he  stood  by  an 
open  door  close  to  the  altar  where  he  could  see  with 
out  being  seen. 

The  priest  in  his  gorgeous  vestments  sang  vespers, 
the  congregation  and  the  choir  joining  in  heartily; 
the  sights  and  sounds  soon  enraptured  the  sensitive 
lad. .  The  orderly  service,  the  beauty  and  harmony 
of  it  all,  were  so  different  from  the  disorderly  syna 
gogue  service,  that  every  sound  and  every  movement 
were  a  distinct  pleasure  to  him.  After  the  singing, 
a  man  in  monk's  attire,  a  plain  white  cassock  and 
black  hood,  went  into  the  pulpit  almost  facing  Sam 
uel,  who  immediately  recognized  his  travelling  com 
panion  of  the  day.  The  monk's  face  shone  more 
brightly  than  it  had  even  when  the  boy  first  saw  it  in 
the  morning ;  and  when  he  opened  his  lips  it  seemed 
to  Samuel  as  if  one  of  his  forbidden  deities  were  speak 
ing  from  Mount  Olympus. 

"My  beloved,"  said  the  monk,  "I  want  you  to 
listen  to  a  word  which  is  written  in  the  Gospel  of 
St.  John :  '  For  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He 
gave  His  only  begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth 
in  Him  shall  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting 
life.'  " 

He  explained  to  whom,  and  just  when,  these  words 
were  spoken ;  then,  simply  and  gently,  yet  emphat 
ically,  he  told  them  the  old,  yet  the  ever- new,  theme 
of  the  love  of  God  and  of  the  sacrifice  of  that  love. 

"And  you,"  he  said,  "although  you  are  encircled 


86  THE  MEDIATOR 

by  that  divine  love,  still  hate  those  whom  Christ 
loves." 

He  then  narrated  the  experience  of  the  morning, 
the  cruelty  of  the  lads  towards  the  Jewish  boy,  and 
having  heard  the  incident  of  the  afternoon  also,  he 
chided  the  whole  congregation  for  its  hatred  of  an 
innocent  youth.  Having  used  him  as  an  illustration, 
he  urged  upon  the  people,  for  their  salvation,  faith 
in  that  Christ  who  according  to  the  flesh  was  a  Jew 
and  yet  was  very  God.  Over  and  over  again  he  re 
peated  that  wonderful  text,  "God  so  loved  the 
world,"  and  each  time  he  pronounced  it,  it  went 
home  to  Samuel's  heart.  That  was  the  something, 
he  thought,  he  had  been  longing  for,  and  that  some 
thing  he  resolved  to  find — to  find  at  once  and  test  to 
the  utmost. 

In  glowing  colours  the  preacher  pictured  the  bliss 
of  heaven  for  all  those  who  believed  in  Christ's  love, 
and  the  burning  fires  of  hell  for  those  who  did  not 
believe  and  who  lived  in  hate. 

As  soon  as  the  monk  had  finished  his  sermon, 
Samuel  left  the  door  and  waited  in  the  deep  shadow 
of  the  church  wall  until  the  congregation  had  gone. 
As  the  monk  stepped  into  the  street,  Samuel  stretched 
out  his  hand,  and,  drawing  him  away  into  the  dark 
ness,  told  him  of  the  awakened  longing  of  his  soul  and 
of  his  determination  not  to  return  to  Kottowin  under 
any  circumstances. 

When  morning  came,  Suszka  looked  into  his  room 


THE  APOSTASY  OF  SAMUEL  87 

to  waken  her  boy  with  the  usual  "Schma  Jsrael ! 
How  lazy  you  are,  Samuel ; "  but  she  found  the  bed 
empty  and  untouched.  Alarmed,  she  ran  out  and 
called  Anka,  to  ask  if  she  could  account  for  Samuel's 
disappearance.  Anka  told  her  what  had  happened 
in  the  barn  after  their  return  from  the  harvest  field. 
"  And  what  did  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"Oh!  mamma!"  answered  Anka.  "Do  you 
think  I  would  ever  marry  a  man  who  crucified 
Jesus?"  and  then  Suszka  thought  she  knew  what 
had  happened  to  her  boy. 


VIII 
SAMUEL'S  CHOICE 

UPON  the  floor  of  beaten  earth  where,  thir 
teen  years  before,  his  wife's  body  had  lain 
wrapped  for  the  burial,  sat  Eeb  Abraham, 
in  sackcloth  and  ashes,  mourning  for  his  son.  In 
perfect  silence  his  neighbours  came  and  went,  leav 
ing  behind  them  such  food  as  might  tempt  him  to 
eat ;  but  none  of  them  had  sufficient  courage  to  speak 
a  word  of  cheer  in  this  calamity  which  was  greater 
than  death.  Neither  did  Eeb  Abraham  dare  to  lift 
his  head  and  look  into  their  faces ;  for  great  as  was 
his  grief,  greater  still  was  the  shame  which  he  felt 
resting  upon  him.  He  had  become  an  outcast  through 
his  outcast  son,  and  had  been  made  a  traitor  to  his 
race  for  having  borne  and  reared  so  treacherous  a 
child. 

For  seven  days  and  nights  he  mourned,  without 
finding  relief  in  tears  or  hearing  a  word  of  comfort 
from  human  lips.  For  seven  days  he  repeated 
prayers  for  the  dead,  with  his  lips,  but  his  heart  was 
numb.  When  the  last  day's  vigil  was  over,  he  fell 
upon  the  ground,  and  a  cry  of  agony  rose  from  his 
lips — a  cry  so  bitter  and  full  of  anguish  that  the  dogs 
in  the  street  howled,  children  trembled  from  fear, 

88 


SAMUEL'S  CHOICE  89 

and  the  women  who  were  with  child  prayed  that  the 
unborn  might  be  kept  from  Samuel's  crime,  the 
crime  of  Elisa  ben  Abuja. 

For  two  days  the  women  wept,  while  they  heard  the 
unceasing  lamentations  of  the  heart-broken  father ; 
but  when  the  morning  of  the  tenth  day  dawned,  some 
great  resolve  seemed  to  have  filled  Eeb  Abraham's 
breast,  for  he  stepped  out  into  the  gray  light,  even 
before  the  Eabbi  was  in  the  synagogue. 

He  went  across  the  long  bridge,  through  the  toll- 
gate,  and  between  the  rows  of  lilac  bushes,  which, 
flowerless,  were  shivering  in  the  cold  of  the  autumn 
morning.  The  chatter  of  the  sparrows  and  the  caw 
ing  of  the  crows  made  dismal  sounds,  where  once 
spring  carols  had  greeted  Abraham's  ears. 

Then  he  had  gone  out  to  find  love's  reward,  to  pray 
for  the  son  denied  him ;  now  he  was  going  to  de 
mand  that  son  back  from  the  death  into  which  he  had 
plunged. 

The  road  was  miry  from  the  long  autumn  rains, 
and  wearily  Eeb  Abraham  pressed  on,  past  the  Pany's 
house,  towards  the  great  black  crucifix.  He  turned 
to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  and,  seeing  no  one,  for  it 
was  very  early,  he  closed  his  eyes,  went  straight  to 
the  cross  and  lifted  his  cane  high,  ready  to  smite  the 
face  of  the  naked  form  which  hung  there.  Wearily 
he  poised  the  lifted  cane,  then  opened  his  eyes  to  aim 
for  the  downward  stroke ;  but  the  cane  fell  from  his 
hands ;  for,  as  he  saw  the  face,  it  seemed  strangely 


90  THE  MEDIATOR 

familiar — like  his  own — with  the  same  marks  of  sor 
row  which  he  had  felt  creeping  over  his  face.  There 
were  red  tears  upon  the  cheeks,  a  crown  of  thorns 
was  pressed  upon  the  forehead,  and  upon  the  naked 
body  he  saw  the  nail-prints  and  the  spear-thrust. 

"Oy,  oy,  oy!"  said  Eeb  Abraham.  "You,  too, 
have  your  share  of  suffering,  poor  image."  Then,  as 
if  overcome  by  a  sense  of  sin,  for  having  looked  this 
arch-traitor  in  the  face,  he  spat  upon  the  ground 
three  times,  and  continued  his  journey  towards 
Trnava,  the  Dominican  monastery,  the  tomb  of  his 
son's  soul. 

In  a  narrow  cell,  on  the  second  floor  of  the  mon 
astery,  Samuel  had  waited  since  daybreak  for  the 
tolling  of  the  bells  which  were  to  summon  him  to  the 
chapel  where  the  service  of  admission  to  the  novitiate 
would  take  place. 

He  had  spent  a  sleepless  night.  His  heart  was 
heavy  from  yearning  for  his  father,  and  his  eyes 
were  hungry  for  a  sight  of  the  dear  face.  He  had, 
too,  become  dimly  conscious  of  the  dire  consequences 
which  his  flight  would  bring  upon  his  father  and  of 
the  suffering  which  he  must  endure.  With  such 
marvellous  skill,  however,  had  his  soul  been  wooed 
and  won — in  the  solemn  service  of  baptism,  by 
chants,  prayers  and  processionals,  by  acts  of  self- 
denial  and  the  promise  of  future  sacrifice — that,  as 
the  memory  of  all  these  crowded  into  Samuel's  mind, 


SAMUEL'S  CHOICE  91 

he  fell  upon  his  knees,  overwhelmed  by  the  greatness 
of  the  joy  set  before  him. 

The  monks  had  told  him  over  and  over  again  that 
he  had  been  led  by  God  to  the  monastery,  that  the 
Heavenly  Father  had  favoured  him  in  a  way  which 
He  had  not  shown  to  any  of  His  children,  and  that 
he,  the  son  of  a  Jewish  priest,  had  been  chosen  not 
only  to  save  his  own  soul,  but  to  become  the  saviour 
of  the  souls  of  others.  The  monks  treated  him  as 
though  he  were  some  special  object  of  the  divine 
grace,  whose  presence  there  shed  lustre  upon  the 
cloister  itself. 

All  this  produced  in  the  boy  a  sense  of  exaltation 
and  consecration  which  had  gripped  his  soul,  and 
easily  overcame  the  homesickness  and  the  bitter  re- 
inorse  which  were  beginning  to  make  themselves  felt. 
He  experienced  a  new  happiness,  like  that  of  a 
soldier  who  sees  before  him  the  flag  of  his  country. 
He  felt  ready  to  vow  allegiance  to  the  Christ,  and  to 
accept  with  joy  its  consequences — poverty,  fasting, 
and  long  night  vigils. 

At  last  came  the  sound  of  the  bells,  though  not 
tolling  as  was  their  wont.  To-day  they  pealed  forth 
merrily  ;  while  the  deep,  swelling  notes  of  the  organ, 
vibrating  against  the  church  walls,  were  swept  out 
through  the  corridors  and  wafted  into  the  dismal 
open,  where  Eeb  Abraham  stood,  shivering  and  cold, 
not  yet  daring  to  ring  the  bell  at  the  locked  gate. 

Within  the  cloister  walls  a  feeling  of  cheer  seemed 


92  THE  MEDIATOR 

to  manifest  itself.  The  silence  was  not  dull  and 
heavy,  but  palpitated  from  an  undercurrent  of  joy  ; 
for  a  soul  had  been  rescued  from  hell,  and  was  about 
to  be  vested  in  garments  of  the  sacred  Order. 

Special  permission  for  this  had  been  obtained  from 
Rome  ;  for,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  Order,  no 
baptized  Jews  were  eligible  to  membership,  and  the 
youngest  novice  must  be  fifteen  years  of  age  before 
he  could  be  received  into  the  Dominican  Brotherhood. 

The  procession  formed  silently.  The  ascetic  prior, 
whose  parchment-like  skin  never  had  relaxed  to  the 
joy  of  a  smile,  led  the  way,  his  face  wearing  the 
nearest  sign  of  emotion  akin  to  happiness  that  it  had 
ever  known.  The  older  monks  followed,  then  came 
the  large  number  of  lay  brothers,  and,  finally,  Samuel. 
By  his  side  walked  Father  Antonius,  his  friend,  his 
counsellor,  and  the  earthly  model  after  which  he 
hoped  to  fashion  his  life.  Through  the  corridors  the 
procession  went.  To  the  solemn  strains  of  a  chant, 
it  marched  across  the  courtyard  and  passed  the  gate 
which  led  out  into  the  world,  against  which  it  was 
shut  and  barred. 

A  furious  ringing  of  the  bell  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  porter,  who  ran  to  answer  the  violent  summons. 
He  opened  the  gate  to  Reb  Abraham,  haggard  and 
worn,  his  eyes  aglow  from  the  parental  hunger,  which 
in  no  race  is  stronger  than  in  that  of  the  Jew. 

"What  does  the  Jew  want?"  the  porter  asked 
abruptly. 


SAMUEL'S  CHOICE  93 

"  I  want  my  sou  1 "  Beb  Abraham  cried  so  harshly 
that  his  voice  penetrated  the  courtyard  ;  but  there  it 
was  drowned  by  the  ringing  of  the  bells  and  the 
chanting  of  the  choir. 

"  I  want  my  sou,  my  only  son,  given  to  me  of  God  ! 
The  son  of  my  old  age !  Give  me  my  son  ! " 

As  Eeb  Abraham  met  the  stern  gaze  of  the  porter, 
he  began  to  plead  with  him:  "O  good  man,  good 
man,  give  me  my  son  !  You  have  so  many  children 
of  Christian  parents !  Give  me  my  son,  my  only 
sou  1" 

Sadly  and  insistently  rose  the  wail  of  his  petition, 
which  was  answered  by  the  unsympathetic  words 
of  the  porter,  who  assured  him  that  his  son  was  safe 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  safer  than  in  the  bosom 
of  his  father. 

Through  the  open  gate  came  the  notes  of  Psalms 
and  hymns,  and  with  them  mingled  the  wild  lamen 
tations  of  Eeb  Abraham  as  he  pleaded  with  the  porter, 
who  at  last  promised  to  speak  to  the  prior  as  soon  as 
possible.  Then  he  closed  the  gate. 

In  the  chapel  on  both  sides  of  the  aisle  stood  the 
monks  in  their  white  robes,  and,  led  by  Father  An- 
tonius,  Samuel  walked  between  them  to  the  altar, 
where  he  knelt  before  the  prior,  who  asked  with  less 
than  his  customary  harshness  and  hardness  of  voice  : 
"What  dost  thou  desire?"  To  which  Samuel  an 
swered  :  "  God's  mercy  and  yours." 

Then  the  prior  spoke  to  Samuel  of  the  great  privi- 


94  THE  MEDIATOE 

lege  granted  him,  of  the  joy  set  before  him,  of  the 
responsibilities  placed  upon  his  young  shoulders,  and 
of  the  obligations  which  he  assumed  in  taking  upon 
himself  the  vows  of  poverty,  celibacy,  and  obedience, 
as  well  as  the  observance  of  the  rules  and  regulations 
of  the  Order. 

When  the  prior  finished  speaking,  a  lay  brother 
brought  the  garments  of  the  novice,  and  one  by  one 
they  were  put  upon  Samuel,  while  the  prior  repeated 
Latin  prayers.  When  the  boy  stood  arrayed  in  his 
new  garb,  the  prior  said  solemnly  :  "Buried  and  for 
gotten  be  thy  past ;  that  as  a  new  man  thou  mayest 
arise  in  our  Holy  Order.  Therefore,  I  take  thy  name 
from  thee  and  name  thee  anew — Gregorius." 

Silence,  deep  silence,  hovered  over  all,  as  prostrate 
upon  the  floor,  before  the  prior,  Samuel  lay  in  sub 
mission,  his  young,  impressionable  soul  enraptured 
by  the  magic  of  the  service  ;  all  the  human  in  him 
benumbed,  and  all  the  divine,  aflame. 

Outside  the  gate,  an  old  man  stood,  chilled  to  the 
bone  by  the  cold  north  wind.  He  shrieked  in  his 
agony,  and  the  silence  of  the  cloister  walls  echoed  his 
wild  words. 

"  You  robbers  !  "  he  cried.  "  You  child-robbers  ! 
Give  me  my  son,  my  only  son  !  Give  me  my  son,  I 
say  !  "  Then  he  pulled  the  bell  again  and  again ; 
but  only  the  echo  answered  him. 

At  last,  after  a  long  time,  the  porter  opened  the 
gate,  and  by  his  side  stood  the  prior,  cold  and 


SAMUEL'S  CHOICE  95 

austere.  Eeb  Abraham  sprang  at  him  like  a  wild 
animal,  and  cried  again :  "  My  son,  give  me  my 
son  ! "  Then,  as  he  saw  the  stern,  unresponsive  face, 
he  fell  upon  the  ground,  embraced  the  feet  of  the 
prior  and  pleaded  :  "  Oh,  give  me  my  son — my  son — 
my  only  son  !  Don't  let  me  go  to  my  grave  without 
a  son  to  say  Kadish  for  me,  to  pray  for  me  after  I 
am  dead  ! ' ' 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  give  you  your  son,"  the  prior 
said,  showing  no  signs  of  emotion.  "He  is  the  son 
of  the  Church,  bound  to  her  by  vows  which  no  man 
can  break ;  he  is  Christ's  son,  to  become  His  min 
ister,  to  save  his  own  soul  and  the  souls  of  men  from 
hell." 

* ( Oh,  mighty  sir ! "  Eeb  Abraham  implored.  ' '  Tell 
that  Christ  of  yours  my  sorrow,  my  despair,  and 
He  will  let  me  have  my  son  again.  I  know  He 
will !  I  have  seen  His  face  to-day  ;  it  is  full  of  grief 
like  my  grief.  I  know  He  will  understand  when  you 
tell  Him.  Dear,  dear,  mighty  sir,  do  tell  Him  that 
an  old  man  had  given  to  him  one  son,  just  one  son — 
God  took  my  wife  to  give  me  a  son,  and  now  you 
have  taken  that  son.  Tell  Him  !  Do  tell  Him  that ! ' ' 

The  prior  shook  his  head  and  walked  away,  while 
the  porter  shut  the  gate  and  barred  it.  Eeb  Abra 
ham  rose  from  the  ground,  all  bespattered  by  mud, 
tears  streaming  down  his  pallid  cheeks.  He  beat 
with  his  fists  against  the  closed  gate,  crying  out: 
"Bobbers!  Eobbers  !  My  son,  give  me  my  son! 


96  THE  MEDIATOR 

My  only  son  !  Bobbers  !  Thieves !  Murderers  !  Let 
me  see  my  son !  Oh,  let  me  just  see  my  son  ! " 

For  an  hour  he  beat  against  the  iron  barrier  until 
his  hands  were  bleeding,  and  then  the  gate  was 
opened.  There  stood  the  white-robed  monks,  and 
between  them  walking  towards  the  gate  he  saw  his 
son,  his  own  son,  given  to  him  in  answer  to  the 
prayers  of  the  holy  men  of  Cracow.  His  son  in  a 
monk's  garb,  in  his  hands  a  cross,  his  head  smoothly 
shaven,  and  his  face  aglow  from  the  joy  of  heaven. 
This,  his  son,  came  towards  him,  not  knowing  that 
it  was  his  father,  and  by  his  side  walked  Father 
Aiitonius,  who  whispered  in  his  ear  :  "My  son,  you 
must  choose  now  between  Christ  and  your  father. 
Eemember  what  He  said  :  l  He  that  loveth  father  or 
mother  more  than  Me  is  not  worthy  of  Me.' " 

Now  Samuel  saw  his  father,  who  stood  there  dumb 
from  the  anguish  of  it  all.  His  lips  quivered,  trying 
to  give  utterance  to  the  yearning  of  his  heart ;  while 
his  eyes  were  fastened  upon  his  child.  Then  a  great 
cry  rose  from  his  lips.  "  My  son  !  Oh,  my  son  !  My 
God-given  son !" 

The  cross  swayed  in  Samuel's  hands  and  fell  to 
the  ground  as  he  started  forward,  ready  to  leap  into 
his  father's  outstretched  arms  ;  but  Father  Antonius 
lifted  the  cross  and  pressed  it  again  into  the  boy's 
hands. 

"No  man,"  he  said,  "having  put  his  hand  to  the 
plough  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  Kingdom  of 


SAMUEL'S  CHOICE  97 

God.  And  Jesus  said  to  those  who  sought  Him  in 
the  temple :  '  Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  My 
Father's  business?'  " 

Thus  adjured  by  Father  Antonius,  Samuel  gripped 
the  cross  firmly,  while  he  clenched  his  teeth  and 
tried  bravely  to  suppress  the  tears.  Crucifix  in  hand 
he  walked  towards  his  father,  holy  water  and  the 
odour  of  incense  still  upon  him ;  while  the  priests 
chanted  in  unison  :  "The  Lord  is  my  light  and  my 
salvation.  Whom  shall  I  fear?  The  Lord  is  the 
strength  of  my  life.  Of  whom  shall  I  be  afraid?" 
"When  my  father  and  my  mother  forsake  me,  then 
the  Lord  will  take  me  up." 

Higher  and  higher  the  chant  rose,  and  firmly, 
without  a  tremour,  the  cross  remained  upheld  in 
Samuel's  hands. 

When  his  father  saw  his  eyes  so  steadily  fixed 
upon  the  cross,  his  outstretched  arms  sank  heavily 
by  his  side,  and  he  cried  out  as  he  turned  his  back 
upon  his  son  :  "  Elisa  ben  Abuja  !  Elisa  ben  Abuja ! 
My  son  given  to  me  of  God  is  dead !  he  is  dead  ! " 

The  gate  closed  again,  the  grief -stricken  old  man 
staggered  home  towards  Kottowin,  and  Samuel  was 
led  back  to  his  cell  by  Father  Antonius,  who  fell 
upon  his  knees  beside  him  and  prayed  away  the 
boy's  grief  for  his  earthly  father,  as  he  made  him 
more  and  more  conscious  of  the  nearness  of  the 
heavenly  Father. 

Eeb  Abraham  was  a  silent  man  as  he  walked  again 


98  THE  MEDIATOR 

upon  the  streets  of  Kottowin.  He  spoke  to  no  one, 
and  no  one  spoke  to  him.  None  dared  ask  him 
about  his  son,  and  his  heart  grew  more  and  more 
numb  to  the  pain  which  never  left  it 

From  early  morning  until  late  at  night,  he  pored 
over  the  Talmud,  breaking  away  from  it  only  long 
enough  to  say  his  prayers.  No  matter  how  much  his 
sister  complained,  she  did  not  weary  him  by  her 
worries.  He  just  prayed  and  prayed  and  read  the 
Talmud,  leaving  the  rest  to  God. 

And  God  took  strange  care  of  him.  All  over 
Kottowin  it  was  whispered,  and  the  story  travelled 
to  the  uttermost  parts  of  Poland,  that  God  was  send 
ing  His  angels  once  a  week  to  look  after  Eeb  Abra 
ham's  needs. 

Two  angels  in  white  were  seen  in  the  night,  many 
a  time,  one  tall  and  the  other  short ;  one  was  sup 
posed  to  be  Gabriel,  the  other  Ariel.  They  brought 
wood  which  burned  all  winter  and  never  grew  less ; 
flour  was  put  into  a  bin,  which  never  became  empty  ; 
upon  the  gnarled  plum  trees  in  Eeb  Abraham's  front 
yard  grew  luscious  fruit,  such  as  had  never  been 
tasted  by  mortal's  lips,  and  Eeb  Abraham  increased 
daily  in  piety  ;  while  the  angels  ministered  unto  him. 


IX 
BROTHER  GREGORIUS 

BEFOEE  the  gate  of  the  monastery  at  Trnava 
stood  the  carriage  of  the  Pauy.  The  coach 
man,  generously  rotund,  was  resplendent  in 
holiday  attire,  even  his  whip  being  tied  with  ribbons. 
The  horses,  a  matched  team  of  Orlofls,  shone  in 
magnificent  trappings  which  fairly  sparkled  as  the 
sunlight  danced  upon  each  buckle  and  rivet,  so 
brightly  polished  for  this  festive  occasion.  Upon 
the  blandly  good-natured  face  of  the  coachman  a 
mischievous  smile  played,  broadening  into  a  grin  as 
he  talked  to  his  restive  horses : 

"Whoa  there,  Czar!  Be  patient;  pretty  soon 
you'll  have  all  the  run  you  want,  and  such  a  pas 
senger  as  you  will  carry,  no  horse  of  the  Pany's,  in 
my  memory,  has  ever  drawn.  Whoa  there,  I  say  ; 
Czarina,  don't  you  bite  the  Czar  ;  you  two  carry  on 
as  if  you  were  the  real  thing.  No,  no,  no  1  Can't 
you  stand  still  a  minute  while  his  reverence  is  put 
ting  on  his  toggery  ?  A  Jew  monk  !  Did  you  ever 
in  your  life  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Well,  well !  Did  you 
ever  ?  Whoa  there  !  I  bet  those  Jews  in  Kottowin 
are  as  crazy  as  bed-bugs  when  the  house  is  on  fire — 
br-r-r  !  Stand,  you  Czar  !  Dog's  blood  !  That  will 
be  a  show  to-day  1  A  Jew  monk  preaching  in  the 

99 


100  THE  MEDIATOR 

morning,  a  Jew  baiting  to-night :  a  fine  programme 
the  Pany  has  arranged !  Whoa  there !  I  wonder 
whether  the  monk  will  still  stink  like  a  Jew." 

Hardly  had  these  unholy  words  been  uttered,  when 
a  monk  opened  the  gate  and  the  Pany  appeared,  hat 
in  hand,  reverently  bowing ;  while  the  prior  of  the 
monastery,  an  ascetic,  shrivelled  monk,  whose  eyes 
alone  seemed  alive,  so  sharp  and  penetrating  were 
they,  followed,  accompanied  by  a  young  monk,  in 
the  spotlessly  white  robe  of  the  Dominican  Order. 

The  young  monk  was  of  medium  height.  His 
black  cape  made  a  splendid  background  for  a  large 
head,  whose  mass  of  dark,  wavy  hair  circled  like  a 
wreath  the  smoothly-shaven  crown.  His  lustrous 
black  eyes,  beneath  the  high  forehead,  seemed  to 
look  deep  into  hidden  things,  yet  rested  keenly  on 
objects  that  were  around  and  near  him. 

He  greeted  the  world  which  now  opened  to  him 
with  a  genuine  smile,  which  seemed  to  come  from 
his  innermost  soul,  even  while  a  tinge  of  sadness 
about  the  lips  strove  with  the  smile,  giving  his  face 
that  play  of  light  and  shadow  which  one  so  often  sees 
in  men  with  a  deep  purpose  in  life. 

"Praised  be  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ!"  the  coach 
man  said. 

"Throughout  eternity,  amen!"  was  the  answer 
given  by  the  young  monk,  and  the  words  were 
spoken  as  though  he  meant  them,  and  not  as  one 
speaking  a  part. 


BEOTHER  GEEGOEITTS  101 

The  prior  stepped  into  the  carriage ;  then  :  "  Your 
reverence  first,"  the  Pauy  said  to  the  monk,  as 
politely  as  he  could  say  it  without  betraying  his 
real  feelings. 

"And  now  drive  like  the  devil ! "  he  shouted  to 
the  coachman  on  the  box,  as  he  loosened  the  reins 
of  the  Orloff  horses,  which,  lifting  their  feet  high 
and  in  perfect  unison,  stormed  away,  down  the  hills 
and  up  again,  through  one  village  and  then  another, 
towards  the  main  road  which  led  to  Kottowiu. 

The  thoughts  which  passed  through  Brother 
Gregorius'  mind  travelled  even  faster  than  the 
horses.  Over  this  road  he  had  gone  afoot,  fourteen 
years  ago,  a  despised  "  Jew  boy"  ;  now,  an  ambassa 
dor  of  Jesus  Christ,  he  was  driving  in  the  Pany's  car 
riage  to  celebrate  his  first  Mass.  Fourteen  years, 
fourteen  sheltered  years,  and  each  day  like  the  other  ! 
The  rising  bell  ringing  at  half-past  three  in  the 
morning,  at  half-past  four  prayers  in  the  common 
chapel  until  six  ;  another  Mass,  and  then  the  menial 
work  of  his  cell.  At  seven  o'clock  breakfast,  from 
eight  to  nine  prayers,  from  nine  to  ten  listening  to  a 
sermon  or  lecture,  and,  at  a  quarter  past  eleven, 
prayers  in  the  chapel.  At  noon,  dinner,  after  dinner 
rest  until  half- past  one,  prayers  until  three,  from  three 
to  four  another  sermon,  from  four  to  five  a  lecture  on 
the  life  of  St.  Dominic,  at  six  o'clock  litany,  from  a 
quarter  past  six  until  seven  prayers,  at  seven  o'clock 
supper,  at  eight  o'clock  silent  meditation,  then  the 


102  THE  MEDIATOR 

cell  and  his  narrow  bed — this  had  been  his  daily 
routine  in  the  monastery. 

At  last,  after  a  year  of  such  preparation,  came  the 
Latin  school,  which  relieved  the  monotony  of  his  life 
and  made  it  bearable ;  then  came  his  examinations 
and  ordination,  and  now  his  first  Mass. 

Fourteen  long  years — outwardly  methodical  and 
peaceful ;  inwardly  full  of  rebellion,  of  struggle  and 
final  submission !  Had  it  not  been  for  Father 
Antonius,  and  for  his  constant  admonitions  and  his 
saintly  life,  the  walls  of  the  monastery  could  not  have 
held  Samuel. 

"My  boy,  the  years  seem  long  and  the  process  of 
attaining  seems  hard  ;  but,  remember  what  is  before 
you — an  heroic  life  in  the  service  of  God." 

This  chance  to  be  heroic,  to  spend  his  life  in  the 
service  of  humanity,  was  Samuel's  pole  star  and  his 
goal.  Now  the  goal  was  reached  ;  he  would  pro 
claim  that  wonderful  truth  of  salvation  to  men,  and 
save  them,  ah,  save  them !  All  the  pain  which  his 
father  must  have  borne — all  the  agony  of  the  separa 
tion,  which  over  and  over  again  had  wrung  his  own 
heart,  were  swallowed  up  in  the  thought  of  salvation, 
salvation  for  his  father  and  his  kinsmen. 

Yet,  strange  to  say,  other  thoughts  came  crowding 
now  as  they  had  not  come  before.  Each  breath  of 
that  April  morning  awakened  new  life  in  him  and 
assaulted  every  slumbering  nerve.  His  father's  face 
haunted  him,  as  it  had  looked  the  last  time  he  saw 


BEOTHEE  GEEGOEIUS  103 

him  before  the  cloister  wall — when  he  had  to  choose 
between  his  father  and  the  Christ.  He  chose  the 
Christ — had  he  chosen  well?  Was  it  worth  while, 
after  all,  to  have  heaped  shame  and  agony  upon  the 
head  of  his  father,  for  the  sake  of  this,  for  the  sake 
of  the  cassock  and  the  cross?  Was  the  world  he  had 
chosen  a  larger  world  than  the  world  of  the  Talmud 
which  he  had  deserted?  Were  not  the  Fathers 
whom  he  had  studied  only  Eabbis  after  all  ?  What 
had  become  of  his  Greek  divinities,  of  Schiller,  with 
his  passion  for  freedom,  of  Heine,  and  his  desire  for 
love? 

From  the  last  hilltop  which  the  horses  climbed,  he 
could  see  from  afar  the  holy  town  of  Kottowin. 
Yonder  were  the  church  and  the  monastery,  the 
broad  market  space,  the  schoolhouse  ;  then  the  seven 
shining  minarets  of  the  Temple,  to  which  his  heart 
was  drawn ;  while  his  eyes  eagerly  sought  the  irregular 
line,  formed  by  the  muddy  stream  on  the  bank  of 
which  stood  his  father's  home.  Unbidden,  the  tears 
came  to  his  eyes  and  remorse  began  to  gnaw  at  his 
heart  as  never  before.  He  was  disturbed  in  his  pain 
ful  reverie  by  the  sound  of  guns,  and  as  the  car 
riage  turned  into  the  road  where  the  Pany's  domain 
began,  he  saw  groups  of  festal-clad  maidens  strewing 
flowers  on  the  dusty  highway  in  honour  of  his  com 
ing,  while  the  town-band  blew  upon  its  instruments 
discordant  notes  of  acclaim.  Church  banners  waved 
around  him,  and  he  could  not  fail  to  see  that  Kot- 


104  THE  MEDIATOE 

towin  was  giving  him  a  most  royal  welcome.  While 
other  monks  and  priests  who  had  come  for  the 
Primiz,  as  this  first  Mass  is  called,  had  received  a 
formal  welcome,  Christian  Kottowin  to-day  had  out 
done  itself— more  to  spite  the  Jews,  however,  than  to 
honour  him — although  that  he  did  not  know. 

Between  the  rows  of  lilacs  the  carriage  was  drawn 
to  the  toll-gate,  where  the  peasantry  of  the  neigh 
bourhood  had  gathered  from  all  the  villages  round 
about  to  be  witnesses  of  the  occasion,  the  like  of 
which  was  unknown  in  the  annals  of  the  region. 

Close  by  the  toll-gate  stood  two  women,  one  of 
whom  the  monk  knew.  She  stretched  out  her  arms 
to  him,  and  stopping  the  carriage  he  embraced  her, 
laying  his  head  for  a  moment  on  her  bosom — the 
only  mother's  breast  he  knew.  Ah !  How  the 
warmth  and  the  sweetly  human  odour  recalled  again 
the  olden  times,  those  golden  times  when  she  carried 
him  to  Kunova  wrapped  in  her  linen  sheet.  He 
almost  expected  to  hear  her  say  :  "  Schma  Jsrael !  " 
Oh,  he  had  been  hungry  many  years  or  that  kiss, 
which  she  now  gave  him. 

Two  questions  fell  quickly  from  his  lips :  "  How 
is  my  father?"  But  she  did  not  answer;  only 
turned  aside  to  hide  her  tears.  "And  Anka?" 
There  she  stood  herself,  a  full  grown  woman — a 
peasant  woman ;  her  features  beautiful,  though  irreg 
ular.  Yes,  he  recognized  the  face  he  knew  so  well, 
now  perfected  by  the  glow  of  womanhood.  For  one 


BEOTHEE  GEEGOEITJS  105 

moment  he  looked  full  into  her  face,  the  first  time  in 
fourteen  years  that  his  eyes  had  lingered  upon  the 
face  of  a  woman  ;  and  then,  his  own  flushed  by  an  un 
holy  warmth,  he  returned  to  the  carriage,  and  the 
triumphal  procession  proceeded. 

Now  they  crossed  the  bridge  and  passed  the  out 
lying  barns ;  but  were  they  going  to  take  him  through 
the  Jews'  street  and  past  the  synagogue  f  Oh  !  Why 
was  this  done?  The  band  played  its  loudest,  the 
guns  boomed  their  welcome,  the  banners  were  flying, 
and  on  through  the  Jews'  street  they  went.  It  looked 
like  the  street  of  the  dead.  Each  door  was  heavily 
barred,  the  curtains  everywhere  were  drawn  to  the 
bottom  of  the  windows,  and  the  shops  were  all  closed 
and  silent ;  not  even  a  Jewish  child  was  left  on  the 
street  to  witness  this  triumphant  entry  of  one  of  its 
own.  No  curtain  was  lifted,  no  door  was  opened ; 
even  the  barber's  shop  was  closed  and  the  brass 
basins  were  draped  in  mourning. 

Now  they  were  passing  the  synagogue ;  why  do 
they  drive  so  heart-breakingly  slowly  ? 

"  Go  on,  coachman,  drive  on,  for  Heaven's  sake ! " 
he  cried  ;  but  the  coachman  gave  no  heed  and  slowly 
the  carriage  moved  past  the  iron  gate  through  which 
he  had  gone  so  often,  so  often  beside  his  father.  All 
his  unhappy  childhood  now  glowed  as  from  a  halo, 
and  he  would  gladly  have  borne  it  over  again,  so 
sweet  did  the  past  seem,  albeit  so  full  of  trouble  and 
pain. 


106  THE  MEDIATOR 

"Don't  stop,  coachman!  For  God's  sake  drive 
on  I"  But  the  band  had  halted  in  front  of  the 
temple  and  it  played,  oh,  agony  !  it  played  the  "Jew 
march ! ' ' 

"Father,"  he  turned  to  the  prior,  "why  do  you 
torture  me  in  this  way?  I  did  not  want  to  come 
here !  I  came  only  because  you  commanded  it ! 
Please  make  this  misery  short !  If  they  do  not  drive 
on,  I  shall  jump  from  the  carriage  and  walk  ! " 

The  prior  extended  a  restraining  hand  as  he  re 
plied  :  "Be  patient,  my  son,  be  patient !  This  is  all 
the  trial  of  your  obedience  and  of  your  faithfulness." 

At  last  the  band  stopped  playing,  the  procession 
moved  again  over  the  market-place,  crowded  by  the 
gorgeously  clad  peasantry  and  the  more  soberly  at 
tired  citizens.  The  bells  rang  deafeningly,  the  guns 
continued  to  roar,  and  after  what  seemed  endless 
ages,  the  church  was  reached ;  and  into  its  semi- 
darkness  the  monk  entered  as  into  a  city  of  refuge. 


"MACKES" 

THE  sacred  edifice  proved  no  city  of  refuge. 
The  calm  and  the  peace  which  usually  came 
to  Brother  Gregorius  when  in  the  sanctuary 
did  not  now  enter  his  heart.     He  prostrated  himself 
before  the  great  crucifix  in  the  vestibule,  but  as  he 
rose  he  saw  the  Christ  face  looking  pitiably  sad  and 
old. 

It  was  a  wrinkled  face,  yet  through  the  wrinkles 
shone  something  human,  something  familiar,  as 
though  it  were  the  face  of  his  own  father.  The  lips 
seemed  to  move  painfully,  saying  hoarsely  and  re 
proachfully  :  u  Oh  !  my  son,  why  have  you  brought 
this  upon  me?  Oh  !  Why  have  you  done  this!" 
Then  the  whole  church  seemed  to  revolve  around 
him,  while  each  one  of  the  apostles  in  stone  and 
every  saint  upon  the  canvases,  looking  strangely 
Jewish  and  full  of  an  historic  sadness,  seemed  to 
say  :  "Oh,  Samuel,  why  have  you  done  this?  Why 
have  you  done  this?" 

When  at  last  he  reached  the  sacristy  and  was 
robed  in  the  garb  of  the  priest,  he  felt  as  if  some 
stranger  wore  it,  as  if  he  were  looking  upon  a  man 
who  was  about  to  perform  an  act  which  he  ought 

107 


108  THE  MEDIATOE 

not  to  perform,  and  vainly  he  strove  to  dissuade  the 
man  from  it. 

As  he  stepped  before  the  altar,  followed  by  the 
assisting  priests,  he  heard  the  pealing  of  the  organ, 
and  the  ringing  of  the  bells.  Then  he  turned  and 
looked  over  the  congregation ;  but  all  he  could  see 
was  the  copper-coloured  face  of  the  Pany,  while 
every  man  and  woman  seemed  to  grin  and  leer  like 
the  Pany.  The  old  fear  took  hold  of  him,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  Pany  were  lifting  his  gun,  and  that 
all  the  men  and  women  around  him  were  dogs  ready 
to  snatch  him ;  while  above  the  snarling  and  whining 
he  could  hear  the  boom  of  that  gun.  The  roar  of  it 
filled  his  ears,  women  fainted,  children  screamed, 
and  the  men  pushed  for  the  door.  Then  the  church 
seemed  to  fall  in  upon  him  and  darkness  came 
down  upon  all. 

When  he  opened  his  eyes,  he  looked  into  the  face 
of  Dr.  Eosnik,  who  whispered  to  him:  "Go  ahead 
and  quickly  say  the  Mass,  or  something  terrible  will 
happen ;  some  one  shot  at  you  a  moment  since,  but 
you  are  not  hurt.  Show  them  that  you  are  not  hurt, 
Brother  Gregorius." 

Then  Brother  Gregorius  felt  as  if  a  mighty  rush 
of  blood  were  coming  back  into  his  heart,  and  with 
out  hesitation  he  began  to  say  Mass. 

The  ceremony  which  he  performed  was  to  him  like 
the  real  dying  of  the  Lord,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  him 
self  were  on  the  cross,  and  that  a  spear  had  pierced 


"M  ACRES"  109 

his  side.  No  triumphant  gladness  filled  his  heart,  no 
matter  how  loudly  the  choir  sang  the  Kyrie  Eleison, 
no  matter  how  red  the  face  of  the  half-drunk  organist 
grew  in  the  effort  to  make  his  instrument  give  forth 
its  jubilant  notes. 

All  Brother  Gregorius  felt  was  the  broken  body 
and  the  spilt  blood.  The  miracle  of  trausubstantia- 
tiou  had  taken  place,  but  the  Lord  was  dead  in  his 
own  heart,  buried  in  the  tomb. 

At  last  it  was  over  .  .  .  again  the  procession 
formed,  banners  waved  to  the  breeze,  the  drunken 
peasants  and  the  blatant  band  fell  into  line  as  best  they 
could,  while  at  his  earnest  command  he  was  driven 
by  a  way  which  did  not  lead  through  the  Jews'  street, 
to  the  Pany's  house,  where  he  was  to  be  the  guest  of 
honour  at  a  dinner  to  which  the  local  and  neighbouring 
clergy,  as  well  as  the  dignitaries  and  officials  of  the 
town,  had  been  invited. 

He  retired  to  a  room  to  be  alone  with  his  thoughts, 
as  became  a  priest  and  monk  who  had  just  performed 
his  first  sacred  rite.  He  fell  upon  his  knees,  reciting 
psalm  after  psalm  and  prayer  after  prayer  ;  but  none 
of  them  brought  him  the  quiet,  or  the  mastery  which 
he  had  gained  over  himself  in  the  hard  school  of  the 
cloister — all  he  could  see  was  the  crucified  Christ, 
with  his  father's  agonized  face.  At  last,  through 
tears,  peace  came,  and  he  felt  as  if  his  father  were 
again  creeping  close  to  him  and  wooing  him  back  to 
himself,  as  on  that  day  so  long  ago.  Stretching  out 


110  THE  MEDIATOE 

his  arms,  he  cried  :  "  Oh,  father  !  Dear,  dear  father, 
why  have  I  brought  this  sorrow  upon  you?" 

At  five  o'clock  he  was  summoned  to  dinner,  and  as 
he  entered  the  dining-room  all  the  priests  except  the 
prior  arose  and  paid  him  the  deference  due  him  on 
this  memorable  day. 

The  Pauy  had  been  lavish  in  providing  for  the 
feast.  All  the  delicacies  of  the  river's  depths  and  of 
field  and  barn  had  been  sacrificed  for  the  occasion  ; 
wine  flowed  freely,  and  the  copper-coloured  face  of  the 
Pany  shone  above  the  florid  faces  of  the  monks,  who 
did  not  stint  themselves  in  partaking  of  either  the 
solids  or  the  liquids.  They  made  an  art  of  eating 
and  drinking,  and  had  mastered  all  the  refinements 
of  that  art.  They  knew  how  to  make  the  most  of 
each  fine  morsel  of  food,  even  as  they  knew  where  in 
the  anatomy  of  fowl  or  fish  it  was  located. 

The  smacking  of  their  lips  grated  on  Brother 
Gregorius,  and  the  odour  of  the  wine  sickened  him. 
For  two  long  hours  the  feasting  continued,  and  then 
toasts  innumerable  were  drunk  to  the  health  of  the 
young  monk  and  of  the  prior,  to  St.  Dominic  and  all 
the  patron  saints,  and  last  of  all  to  the  host. 

When  the  Pany  rose  to  reply  to  his  toast,  he  could 
scarcely  stand  erect,  and  his  beady  eyes  swam  as  in  a 
sea  of  fire.  "  I  am  a  friend  of  the  clergy,  everybody 
knows  that,"  he  said.  "  I  always  have  a  prophet's 
chamber  for  them  in  my  house  and  a  place  at  my 
table  under  which  they  may  put  their  consecrated 


"M  ACRES"  111 

bellies"  .  .  .  then  he  laughed,  and  the  tipsy 
priests  laughed  also.  "  Jolly  good  fellows  the  priests 
are ;  but  the  monks  can  beat  them  all  to  pieces  !  The 
monks  when  they  come  to  my  house  eat  as  if  they 
would  burst,  and  they  drink  like  fish.  Abstinence 
does  that !  Yes,  abstinence  does  that ! 

"To-night  this  house  is  honoured  as  never  before, 
by  a  monk  who'll  beat  not  only  the  priests  but  all 
the  monks.  The  Jews  can  beat  even  the  deviL" 

At  this  the  prior,  who  sat  next  to  the  Pany,  pulled 
him  by  the  coat,  but  he  again  said  :  "  The  Jews  beat 
the  devil,  although  to-day  the  devil  is  going  to  beat 
the  Jews ;  for  the  devil  hates  the  Jews  ...  no  dis 
respect  to  you,  your  Eeverence."  He  turned  towards 
Brother  Gregorius,  who  had  risen  from  his  seat, 
trembling  from  anger. 

''You're  not  a  Jew,  you're  a  Dominican  monk, 
.  .  .  great  honour  .  .  .  his  Holiness  the  Pope 
had  to  give  his  permission  to  make  you  a  monk,  for  the 
monks  themselves  don't  love  the  Jews;  they're  afraid 
of  them  as  much  as  the  devil  is.  And  I  guess  the 
Jews  don't  love  the  monks,  for  if  they  do,  why  should 
they  want  to  kill  our  noble  convert?  Damned  poor 
shot  it  was,  more's  the  pity  ;  but  they  haven't  stopped 
shooting  yet.  The  devil's  going  to  beat  the  Jews  to 
night." 

Brother  Gregorius  had  stepped  close  to  the  Pany, 
looking  into  his  face,  as  he  might  have  looked  into 
the  face  of  a  snake.  Then  turning  to  the  prior  and 


112  THE  MEDIATOE 

to  the  priests,  he  tried  to  speak  but  could  not.  In 
his  rage  he  tore  the  cross  from  his  bosom  and  threw 
it  upon  the  floor,  crying :  "If  you  are  Christian 
priests,  and  this  is  a  Christian  home,  then  I  am  a  Jew 
— a  Jew,  do  you  hear  I  A  Jew  !  Oh,  if  that  bullet 
had  but  struck  me !  Why  didn't  it  strike  me  ?  Oh, 
Pany  !  You  hired  a  poor  shot  to  do  your  killing ! 
But,  remember,  Prior,  you  who  have  stolen  my  years 
and  my  youth,  that  I  am  a  Jew,  a  Jew !  And 
that  I  am  going  home  to  suffer  with  the  Jews  their 
shame  and  their  ignominy ! " 

Far  flung  upon  the  floor  lay  the  cross,  the  cross 
given  to  him  by  Brother  Antonius  ;  and  as  Brother 
Gregorius  remembered  his  saintliness  and  brotherli- 
ness,  he  picked  it  up,  and,  kissing  it,  said  :  "  Oh, 
Christ !  It  is  not  Thy  fault !  Oh,  no,  it  is  not  Thy 
fault ! » 

As  he  ran  from  the  house  the  priests  tried  to  follow 
him,  but  he  was  swifter  of  foot  and  steadier,  so,  ere 
he  realized  it,  he  was  upon  the  bridge.  Hardly  had 
he  run  across  it  than  he  heard  roars  of  laughter 
and  drunken  revelry.  Beaching  the  Jews'  street,  he 
found  it  full  of  excited,  drunken  peasants  and  the 
citizens  of  Kottowin,  all  roaring  at  the  top  of  their 
voices  :  "  Kill  the  Jews  !  They  have  tried  to  kill 
the  monk,  our  precious  Jew  monk  ! " 

Bang  !  One  window  went  crashing,  then  another, 
the  doors  of  shops  were  broken  down  and  the  rabble 
dragged  out  the  goods,  scattering  them  on  the  pave- 


"MACKES"  113 

ment.  Men,  women  and  children  ran  helplessly  out, 
only  to  be  beaten  down  ;  and,  rising,  they  ran  again, 
all  of  them  towards  the  synagogue. 

"  Ho,  here's  a  likely  wench  ! "  cried  a  young  copy 
ist  from  the  judge's  office.  "She  is  kosher,  you 
bet"  .  .  .  but  he  had  not  time  to  approach  her 
before  he  lay  sprawling  upon  the  ground,  felled  by  the 
crucifix  of  the  monk. 

"  Dare  to  touch  her,  you  animals,  you  beasts  ! '' 
he  shouted  at  them  as  loudly  as  his  parched  throat, 
almost  sealed  by  rage  and  the  shame  of  it  all,  would 
let  him.  .  .  .  "Dare  to  touch  her,  you  barbar 
ians,  who  call  yourself  by  Christ's  name,  and  I'll 
brain  you,  one  after  the  other  !  " 

Cowering  behind  him  was  the  girl.  "Bun!"  he 
told  her,  and  she  ran,  he  shielding  her  with  his  back 
and  with  the  uplifted  crucifix,  until  he  heard  the  iron 
gate  of  the  synagogue  open  and  shut,  and  knew  that 
she  was  safe. 

"Burn  down  the  Jew  town !"  cried  the  drunken 
organist,  and  scarcely  had  the  word  been  spoken 
when  fire  leaped  up  the  thatch  of  one  house,  then  on, 
to  another,  and  as  the  flames  swept  along,  crackling 
and  hissing,  the  mob  roared  the  louder.  The  aged 
and  the  sick  ran  out  of  the  houses  like  rabbits  driven 
from  their  burrows,  only  to  be  beaten  by  the  mob 
and  spit  upon  as  they  lay  helpless  in  the  road. 

Vainly  did  Brother  Gregorius  implore  the  mob  to 
desist ;  for,  although  he  succeeded  in  shaming  and 


114  THE  MEDIATOR 

calming  a  few  men,  the  madness  of  all  broke  out 
again  in  another  group,  and  the  pillage  and  the 
beating  increased,  while  the  fire  leaped  from  roof  to 
roof,  until,  carried  by  the  rising  wind,  the  flames  ap 
proached  his  father's  house. 

Without  hesitation,  Brother  Gregorius  flung  him 
self  against  the  locked  door,  and  then  he  heard  his 
father's  voice  pitifully  wailing:  "What  do  you 
want  f  Do  you  want  to  kill  me  ?  I  have  done  you 
no  harm  1  Leave  a  poor  sick  man  alone  ! " 

"  Father,"  Samuel  cried,  "open!  It's  your  son  ! 
Open  !  For  Heaven's  sake,  open  1 " 

"  My  son  ?  I  have  no  son.  My  son,  my  poor  son, 
given  to  me  of  God,  is  dead,  dead,  dead  long  ago  ! " 

The  fire  leaped  upon  the  roof  of  the  house,  while 
the  mob  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Again  Samuel 
flung  himself  against  the  door,  with  the  strength 
lent  him  by  despair ;  he  burst  it  open,  and,  throw 
ing  himself  down  before  his  father,  cried  like  a  child, 
begging  him  to  follow  him. 

"My  son  is  dead!"  was  all  the  answer  he  re 
ceived.  "Dead,  dead  long  ago  !  My  son,  given  to 
me  of  God,  is  dead  ! " 

The  room  was  filling  with  smoke,  and  Samuel, 
lifting  the  helpless  old  man  in  his  arms,  carried  him 
out,  through  the  thick  of  the  mob,  crying  as  he 
went:  "For  Christ's  sake,  make  way!"  but  the 
mob  followed  him  to  the  temple  gate,  where  he  de 
posited  his  burden,  calling  as  loudly  as  he  could: 


"MACKES"  115 

"Open  the  gate  for  Eeb  Abraham  !  Open  the  gate  ! 
For  God's  sake,  open  it  quickly  ! " 

The  noise  of  the  rabble,  silenced  for  a  moment, 
grew  louder  and  louder,  and  again  his  piercing  voice 
cried  :  "Open  the  gate  for  Eeb  Abraham  ! " 

After  a  long  time,  while  the  crowd  was  closing  in 
upon  him,  the  beadle  came  with  his  bunch  of  keys, 
opened  the  gate  carefully  to  admit  the  old  man,  then 
flung  it  shut  in  the  face  of  the  monk. 

"  This  is  no  place  for  renegades ! "  the  beadle 
shouted  into  Samuel's  ears,  as  he  stood  before  the 
locked  gate  with  his  back  to  the  mob,  which  took  up 
the  cry  :  "  Eenegade,  the  Jew  monk  has  turned  ren 
egade  ! " 

Then  Samuel  faced  the  people  and  flung  words  of 
anger  at  them,  while  they  came  closer  and  closer, 
calling:  "Eenegade  Jew!  Eenegade!  Kill  him; 
he  is  a  Jew  in  monk's  clothing,  and  he  is  going  to 
sell  the  Lord  to  the  Jews  ! " 

A  lame  locksmith,  whom  he  had  known  from  his 
childhood,  lifted  an  iron  rod  ready  to  strike  him. 

"Strike,"  he  said,  lifting  the  shielding  crucifix 
over  his  head,  "and  it  will  not  be  the  first  time  nor 
the  last  that  you  have  stricken  your  Lord." 

The  uplifted  rod  came  down  and  struck  the 
crucifix,  which  flew  from  his  hand  and  into  the 
window  of  the  synagogue.  The  crash  roused  anew 
the  fury  of  the  mob  ;  stone  after  stone  followed  the 
cross  into  the  synagogue  through  the  windows ;  Sam- 


116  THE  MEDIATOE 

uel  turned  his  back  to  the  wave  of  rage  which  caine 
towards  him  with  irresistible  force.  Stretching  his 
arms  across  the  barred  gate,  and  grasping  with  both 
hands  the  iron  posts  on  each  side  of  it,  he  withstood 
for  a  time  the  pressure  of  every  renewed  attack. 

Within  the  synagogue,  the  wailing  and  lamenta 
tion  changed  into  piercing  shrieks,  which,  coming 
through  the  broken  windows  to  the  ears  of  the  Gen 
tiles,  incited  them  to  more  violent  action.  The  pres 
sure  against  the  monk  increased  every  second,  the 
gate  yielded,  and  the  mob  surged  in  over  his  pros 
trate  body. 


XI 
GENUS  AMERICANUS 

f  •  ^\HE  big  black  cross  which  stood  at  the  edge 
of  the  town  between  the  bridge  and  the 

-*•  toll-gate,  and  which  had  been  erected  when 
the  peasants  were  freed  from  serfdom,  was  especially 
obnoxious  to  the  Jews,  for  it  faced  their  street, 
obtruding  itself  upon  them  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning  and  the  last  thing  at  night 

It  was  shaded  by  an  old  acacia  tree,  the  gnarled 
and  angular  branches  of  which  seemed  to  be  part  of 
the  body  of  the  Christ,  whose  carved,  gigantic  image 
hung  upon  the  cross.  In  the  shade  of  that  tree,  way 
faring  men  rested  on  their  way  to  the  holy  town  of 
Kottowin  and  from  it,  while  the  popular  superstition 
made  it  at  night  the  battling  ground  of  devils, 
witches,  and  other  gruesome  folk. 

The  gray  morning  formed  a  pallid  background 
for  the  lurid  light  upon  the  sky,  thrown  there  by  the 
fire  in  the  Jews'  street,  and  still  lingering ;  although 
the  last  straw- thatched  cottage  in  that  quarter  was 
reduced  to  ashes. 

Under  the  shadow  of  the  cross  lay  Brother  Grego- 
rius,  with  torn  cassock,  bleeding  body,  and  a  despair 
ing,  almost  broken,  heart — waiting  for  the  daybreak. 
Waking  from  a  stupor-like  sleep,  his  eyes  rested 

117 


118  THE  MEDIATOE 

upon  the  cross.  The  body  of  the  Christ  seemed  to 
writhe  as  if  a  new  death  agony  filled  it,  and  again 
the  drawn  face,  so  unspeakably  sad,  looked  like  the 
face  of  his  father.  Again  he  fancied  that  the  lips 
moved,  saying  :  "  My  son,  my  only  son,  given  to  me 
of  God,  why  have  you  done  this  to  me?  " 

He  drew  himself  into  a  kneeling  posture,  pain 
racking  his  body  and  still  more  his  heart.  Crawling 
close  to  the  cross,  he  cried  out:  "Oh,  father,  dear 
father,  forgive  me !  Oh !  forgive  me !  Christ,  Christ, 
what  have  they  done  in  Thy  name  ?  Poor  Christ ! 
Poor  father  !  Oh,  Christ,  Thou  art  dead,  dead,  else 
Thou  wouldst  smite  them  with  the  rod  of  Thine 
anger,  as  did  Thy  Father  when  they  killed  the 
prophets  !  Thou  art  an  impotent  Christ !  " 

The  painted  tears  on  the  Christ  face  seemed  to 
grow  vivid,  like  liquid  fire,  and  roll  down  upon  the 
naked  body,  leaving  a  scar  wherever  they  touched  it. 

"Does  it  hurt  Thee,  Christ1!"  Brother  Gregorius 
asked  in  his  delirium.  ' '  Oy,  oy,  oy  !  It  does  hurt ! ' ' 
and  he  wiped  the  blood  drops  which  came  trickling 
down  from  his  own  forehead. 

"  The  fire  burns,  oh  !  how  it  burns  inside !  I'll 
get  Thee  some  water,  Christ,  to  put  out  the  fire," 
and  he  began  crawling  towards  the  creek ;  but  his 
strength  left  him,  and  he  lay  there,  seeing  nothing. 
A  black  curtain  seemed  to  shut  out  all  the  black 
world. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps  hurrying  over  the 


GENUS  AMEEICANUS  119 

dusty  road  ;  then  came  the  rolling  of  a  carriage  over 
the  bridge,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  thundered, 
and  when  it  stopped  a  man  bent  over  him,  and  he 
could  feel  skillful  fingers  moving  about  his  body, 
while  a  warm  hand  was  laid  across  his  heart. 

"Oy!  oyl  oy!"  the  man  said.  "You  have  got 
mackes.  Baptism  and  a  monk's  cowl  didn't  save  you 
from  the  mackes.  The  fact  is,  you  have  taken  too 
big  a  dose  of  Christianity."  While  the  man  was 
speaking,  or  rather  chanting,  the  words,  as  if  he 
were  studying  the  Talmud,  he  was  trying  to  revive 
the  monk  by  forcing  between  his  lips  a  powerful 
cordial.  It  was  Dr.  Eosnik,  who  had  been  busy  all 
night  binding  the  wounds  of  Jews  and  Gentiles 
alike. 

''Oy!  oy  1  oy  I"  he  continued.  "What  macJceal 
What  mackes !  Eight  over  the  bald  spot  they  made 
for  him,  he  has  the  biggest  blow  ;  if  he  had  saved  his 
hair  instead  of  shaved  it,  he  couldn't  have  been 
hurt  so  much.  If  he  hadn't  taken  Christianity  so 
seriously,  he  might  now  be  sitting  in  his  easy-chair 
smoking  a  pipe  and  drinking  his  morning  coffee." 

Then  the  monk  awoke,  and,  when  he  saw  the 
doctor,  memories  of  the  past  overwhelmed  him,  and 
he  tried  to  hide  his  face,  suffused  by  tears. 

"Don't  be  a  child,  Samuel !  Pardon  me  for  call 
ing  you  by  your  Jewish  name.  You  are  not  so  much 
to  blame  ;  only  as  you  have  taken  too  big  a  dose  of 
Christianity;  for  Christianity,  when  you  take  an 


120  THE  MEDIATOE 

overdose,  is  as  fatal  a  disease  as  Judaism.  When 
you  take  it  on  the  outside,  just  a  sprinkling  of  holy 
water  and  the  priest's  benediction,  or  make  the  sign 
of  the  cross — that  hurts  nobody  ;  but  when  you  take 
it  the  way  you  did — then  you  get  wiackes.  He,  too," 
pointing  to  the  Christ  on  the  cross,  "He,  too,  has 
got  His  mackes  ! 

"  If  you  had  stayed  at  the  Pany's  house,  and  eaten 
his  fish  and  his  fowl,  and  kept  your  mouth  shut,  or 
called  the  Jews  bad  names,  as  he  did,  you  might  now 
be  saying  Mass  for  the  rest  of  seven  departed  souls ; 
for,  at  least,  so  many  graves  are  going  to  be  filled  to 
morrow.  Your  father!  He,  thank  God,  is  alive,  and 
is  now  on  his  way  to  America.  They  all  have  gone 
to  America,  and,  if  God  was  good  to  them,  they  are 
out  of  Poland  this  minute.  Praised  be  His  name ! 
They  have  found  out  that  America  is  the  only  Zion 
they  will  ever  inherit. 

"The  others?  The  Goyim  (Gentiles) t  Well, 
there  are  going  to  be  two  souls  in  purgatory  to-night. 
One  of  them  is  dead  already,  the  lame  locksmith ; 
he  ought  to  have  died  before  he  was  born.  The 
other,  the  judge's  copyist,  has  his  head  split  open, 
and  there  is  more  light  in  his  brain  than  ever  before. 
He  will  die  by  to-night,  unless  a  miracle  happens ; 
but  no  miracle  is  going  to  happen,  because  he  is 
soaked  in  alcohol  and  rotted  through  by  disease,  and 
a  miracle  has  to  have  a  sound  body  to  work  on. 
Now,  see  if  you  can  stand." 


GENUS  AMEBICANUS  121 

The  monk  rose,  his  tattered  robe  hanging  in 
rags  about  him,  blood-clots  on  his  face — a  pitiable 
spectacle. 

"  Oy  !  oy  ! "  the  doctor  continued,  as  he  saw  how 
ready  he  was  to  sink  to  the  ground  again.  "  Come 
here  and  help,  you  lummox ! "  he  called  to  his  coach 
man,  and  together  the  two  men  lifted  the  monk  into 
the  doctor's  carriage. 

Laying  him  gently  on  the  seat,  and  drawing  the 
hood  over  him,  Dr.  Eosnik  said  to  the  coachman : 
"Now,  drive  slowly  over  the  rough  road,  and  as  fast 
as  you  can  over  the  smooth  places ;  the  sooner  he 
reaches  his  Suszka  the  better.  I  guess  there  is  a 
young  girl  there,  too,  who'll  help  to  heal  some  parts 
of  his  broken  anatomy. 

"Oy!  oy !  What  mackes  I  What  maches!"  he 
ejaculated,  as  he  heard  the  groaning  of  the  monk 
on  that  torturing  journey. 

When  Suszka' s  house  was  reached,  the  doctor  hur 
ried  in,  and  soon  had  the  entire  household  looking 
after  the  wants  of  his  patient,  who  was  carefully  un 
dressed  and  deposited  on  Suszka' s  huge  featherbed. 

"Schma  Jsrael!"  she  cried  tearfully.  "What 
have  those  brutes  done  to  my  boy? — to  his  Eever- 
ence?"  she  corrected  herself,  and,  discarding  the 
Jewish  formula,  called  loudly  upon  "  Jesus,  Mary, 
and  Joseph." 

All  that  human  skill  and  tender  care  could  do  for 
Samuel  was  done ;  but  many  were  the  days  when 


122  THE  MEDIATOE 

darkness  hung  over  him  and  his  mind  went  wander 
ing  up  and  down  the  burning  Jews'  street,  into  his 
monk's  cell  and  out  of  it,  to  Father  Antonius,  his 
friend,  whom  he  sorely  needed  ;  above  all,  to  his  old 
father,  whom  he  had  carried  out  of  the  burning 
dwelling. 

Suszka  and  her  daughter  were  busy  in  the  garden 
when  the  wandering  mind  came  to  itself,  and  Sam 
uel's  eyes  opened  upon  his  surroundings. 

The  room  in  which  he  found  himself  was  familiar 
enough ;  but  a  man  was  sitting  near  his  bedside,  who 
was  a  total  stranger  to  him,  and  whose  like  he  had 
never  seen. 

The  face  he  could  not  see,  but  the  man's  clothing 
was  remarkable.  He  sat  tilted  back  in  his  chair ; 
his  feet,  encased  in  patent  leather  shoes,  were  upon 
the  table.  Two  occupations  seemed  to  absorb  him — 
trimming  his  finger  nails  with  a  huge  pocket-knife, 
an  important  part  of  which  was  a  large  corkscrew, 
and  expectorating  tobacco  juice  through  the  open 
window  with  an  accuracy  of  aim  which  told  of  long 
practice. 

"When  Samuel  moved,  the  man  slowly  took  his  feet 
from  the  table  and  walked  towards  the  bed,  showing 
a  rather  shrewd  and  animated  face,  smoothly  shaven. 
His  neck  was  encircled  by  a  very  high,  stiff  collar  of 
a  peculiar,  shining  material,  an  immense  diamond 
stud  sparkled  in  his  shirt  bosom,  and  a  gold  watch- 
chain  of  great  thickness  spanned  his  ample  chest. 


GENUS  AMERICANUS  123 

He  addressed  Samuel  in  a  jargon  of  Polish  and 
English  ;  but  although  Samuel  had  studied  English, 
his  vocabulary  did  not  contain  certain  peculiar  words 
which  this  man  used  freely. 

1  'By  golly!"  he  said,  " waked  up  at  last,  have 
you?  I  thought  you  was  never  coming  to.  Damn 
them  !  "  again  in  that  language  which  Samuel  could 
not  understand,  "they  have  given  it  to  you  in  the 
neck.  If  that  had  happened  in  America,  I'd  have 
the  whole  cursed  lot  in  jail !  Oh  !  I  see  you  don't 
know  who  I  am.  Well,  I  guess  I  am  some  kind  of 
relation  of  yours.  Suszka  is  my  old  sweetheart,  and 
Anka  is  my  daughter.  I  have  come  back  to  take 
them  with  me  to  America.  I  went  over  just  about 
the  time  you  were  born,  and  worked  like  a  nigger  to 
make  money — and  I  made  a  pile  of  it.  Now,  I  don't 
work  no  more.  I've  got  a  home  in  Coalville,  Penn., 
a  two-storey  house  and  a  saloon,  fine  drinking-place, 
you  bet ! " 

The  introduction  was  informal,  indeed,  and,  as 
Samuel  grew  stronger,  this  first  confidence  was  fol 
lowed  by  others;  for  Pavel  loved  to  talk  about 
America. 

"All  alike  in  America — I  can  say  'Damn  fool !' 
to  the  President,  if  I  want  to.  Great  country — all 
alike.  I  can  spit  wherever  I  want  to,  by  gosh  !  and 
I  can  do  as  I  damn  please." 

What  astonished  Samuel  most  was  when  Pavel 
began  to  talk  about  the  Church.  "By  jingo  ! "  he 


124  THE  MEDIATOE 

said,  "  we  have  a  big  church,  and  a  priest,  and  the 
priest  is  no  better  than  anybody  else.  I  pay  him, 
and  he  preaches.  In  America,  every  Church  is  good, 
and  everybody  is  the  same — Jews,  Catholics,  and 
Protestants.  Everybody  does  as  he  damn  pleases — 
goes  to  church  or  not.  Free  country — America ! 
Damn  fine  country  !  " 

Each  sentence  was  punctuated  by  oaths  and  inter 
rupted  by  frequent  expectorations  of  tobacco  juice. 
Yet,  although  there  were  many  things  rough,  crude, 
and  often  coarse,  about  Pavel,  Samuel  liked  his 
frankness,  and  even  his  brusqueiiess ;  so  when  Pavel 
proposed  that  he  should  cast  his  lot  with  them  and 
go  to  America,  he  readily  assented.  All  his  hopes 
and  plans  were  in  ruins,  and  he  felt  that  he  must  find 
some  place  in  which  to  begin  a  new  life. 

Dr.  Eosnik  heard  the  plan  the  last  time  he  came 
to  see  his  patient,  and  encouraged  him. 

"  Go  to  America,  Samuel :  you'll  find  your  father, 
so  God  will,  and  you  can  begin  life  over  again  ;  but, 
remember,  don't  take  things  too  seriously,  or  you'll 
get  mackes  again.  We  Jews  carry  our  mackes  with 
us,  because  we  think  we  are  God's  chosen  people. 
"We  think  we  have  to  interfere  wherever  there  is 
trouble.  When  two  or  three  Jews,  who  have  the 
real  spirit  of  the  Jew,  get  together,  they  immediately 
proceed  to  give  Jehovah  a  rest  by  trying  to  do  His 
work,  and  then  of  course  they  get  mackes. 

11  If  Moses,  our  great  lawgiver,  would  have  let  that 


GENUS  AMEBICASTUS  125 

Goy  (Gentile)  abuse  the  other  Jews,  and  had  minded 
his  own  business,  he  would  have  owned  Egypt  by 
and  by,  and  then  he  could  have  told  Pharaoh  to  go 
and  drown  himself.  Instead  of  that,  he  killed  an 
Egyptian  overseer  and  had  to  run  away,  or  else  he 
would  have  got  mackes.  Then  he  came  back  and  led 
the  children  of  Israel  into  the  wilderness,  and  there 
they  got  mackes  ;  oy  !  oy  !  oy  !  What  mackes  !  And 
we  have  been  in  the  wilderness  ever  since,  and  the 
mackes !  Oy  !  oy  !  oy  !  what  mackes ! 

"Samuel,  if  Moses  had  left  our  forefathers  in 
Egypt,  they  would  now  own  the  whole  country,  and 
the  Egyptians  would  be  making  brick  for  them. 
You  don't  believe  that?  Well,  what  do  you  see 
right  here  in  Poland?  The  Jews  who  don't  care 
how  their  brethren  suffer,  grow  rich  and  richer  and 
richer,  and  they  let  the  other  people  get  their  mackes, 
and,  by  and  by,  they  will  own  the  country — you  will 
see! 

"  Look  out  for  yourself  in  America,  make  money 
and  save  it,  and  get  rich,  and  when  you  are  rich  just 
send  over  a  steamship  after  me  and  I'll  come  and  be 
your  personal  physician.  Some  day,  who  knows  ? — 
some  day,  I  may  be  glad  to  see  a  ship  like  that  come 
sailing  up  our  creek  ;  because  when  the  Goyim  begin 
giving  mackes  to  the  Jews,  they  may  give  me  a  good 
dose,  too.  In  these  days,  who  can  tell  ?  with  the  Pany 
a  Jew-baiter,  and  with  the  priests  anxious  to  glorify 
the  name  of  Jesus  by  giving  mackes  to  the  Jews ! 


"Samuel,  be  wise,  let  everybody  alone;  make 
money  and  build  that  ship.  I  may  need  it.  And 
now  I  must  go  ! 

"You  don't  owe  me  anything,  not  a  red  kopek, 
and,  moreover,  I  want  to  pay  you  in  advance  for  my 
passage  in  your  ship.  Now,  you  take  that  money 
and  don't  say  a  word,  for  I'll  come  in  your  ship. 
You'll  see  me  sailing  into  New  York  harbour,  and 
then,  if  you  want  to,  you  may  pay  me  with  interest. 
Good-bye,  and  give  my  love  to  your  father." 

With  that  he  took  his  high  hat,  lighted  the  inevi 
table  cigarette,  and  before  Samuel  could  thank  him, 
he  was  out  of  doors,  beating  the  little  fence  with  his 
cane  and  singing  his  usual  tune,  "Tra-la-la-la." 


Suszka  was  anxious  to  be  married  in  the  village 
church  before  they  set  out  for  America,  but  Pavel 
preferred  to  have  the  knot  tied,  American  fashion. 

"Suszka,  over  in  America  we  can  get  married  so 
fast  we  won't  know  what  has  happened.  Why, 
over  there,  a  man  sees  a  woman  in  the  street,  and  if 
he  likes  her,  he  says  to  her  :  '  Will  you  marry  me  ? ' 
and  she  looks  him  over  and  he  will  be  jingling  the 
money  in  his  pockets  and  she  will  say:  'You  bet 
your  boots  I  will.'  So  they  go  to  a  man  who  is 
called  a  Justice  of  the  Peace,  but  he  is  responsible 
for  more  war  than  the  Sultan  of  Turkey.  The  man 
says  to  the  justice  :  'Hello,  old  man  !  We  want  to 


GENUS  AMEEICANUS  127 

get  hitched  ! '  and  he  will  say  :  t  All  right ;  take  hold 
of  your  finances — that's  what  they  call  a  bride-to-be, 
I  suppose  because  she  is  after  the  money.  So  he 
takes  hold  of  her  and  the  justice  says :  l  In  the  name 
of  the  State  you  are  married,'  and  so  they  are,  and 
there's  no  hocus  pocus  about  it.  Then  they  go  down 
town  and  he  buys  her  some  peanuts  and  lemonade 
and  then  they  go  home." 

"Schma  Jsrael  !  Pavel!"  shrieked  Suszka. 
"Those  people  are  heathens  !  I'll  never  marry  you 
that  way  ! " 

"No,  no,  no,  Suszka  I  Of  course  not;  you  are  a 
good  Catholic,  and  we'll  have  the  priest,  and  the 
mass,  and  the  candles,  and  you'll  promise  to  obey 
me,  and  you  will.  That,  Suszka,  is  the  European 
plan  of  marriage,  and  the  woman  gets  it  in  the 
neck." 

"  Where  does  she  get  it  ? " 

"  Eight  back  here,  old  lady,"  and  he  took  his  big 
hands  and  choked  her  caressingly.  "  But  I  tell  you, 
Suszka,  the  American  plan  of  matrimony  has  its 
advantages.  If  they  don't  like  one  another,  he  goes 
to  a  lawyer  and  he  says :  '  My  wife  she  snores  so 
loud  I  can't  sleep,'  and  the  lawyer  goes  to  a  judge, 
and  in  the  meanwhile  the  woman  goes  to  another 
lawyer,  and  he  goes  to  a  judge  and  says  she  wants 
a  divorce  from  her  husband  because  she  found  that 
the  money  he  jingled  in  his  pockets  was  counter 
feit,  and  she  wants  to  sue  him  for  *  false  promises  in 


128  THE  MKDIATOK 

the  breeches' — that's  what  they  call  it — and  she  gets 
the  divorce,  and  then  he  gets  it  in  the  neck,  right 
here,"  and  Pavel  tickled  Suszka  under  the  chin,  and 
she  laughed  until  she  cried. 

"Yes,  Suszka,  if  you  was  a  smart  old  lady  you'd 
get  married  American  fashion;  but  you'll  have  it 
your  own  way,  and  we'll  have  a  big  feast  in  the 
saloon  for  three  days,  with  cabbage,  and  beer  and 
music,  and  they'll  play  Yankee  Doodle,  and  the 
Krakowyan,  and  an  Irish  jig.  Come  on,  old  lady, 
I'll  show  you  how  to  dance  American  fashion  ! "  and 
he  caught  her  around  the  waist  and  pulled  her  all 
about  the  room  as  fast  as  he  could  revolve,  until  she 
dropped  exhausted  on  to  a  bench  and  said,  trying  to 
catch  her  breath :  "  Oh,  my  !  I  couldn't  dance  that 
way." 

"  Americans  do  everything  quick,  like  a  streak  of 
lightning.  They  dance  a  mile  a  minute,  you  bet ! " 
replied  Pavel. 


When  the  last  load  of  grain  was  brought  in  from 
the  fields  the  harvesters  did  not  sing  as  of  yore. 
Slowly  they  walked  beside  the  huge  white  oxen,  over 
the  barren  fields,  through  the  village  streets,  and  al 
most  solemnly  they  brought  the  sheaves  into  the 
barn  ;  for  it  was  the  last  harvest  which  they  would 
gather  in  their  native  fields. 

From  nearly  every  cottage  some  one  was  to  go, 


GENUS  AMEKICANUS  129 

under  Pavel's  guidance,  to  brave  the  peril  of  the 
deep  and  to  try  the  fortunes  of  the  fabled  America. 

When  the  morning  of  departure  came,  there  were 
heard  everywhere  wailing  and  lamentation ;  for 
tender  ties  were  to  be  broken,  and  the  dangers  of 
the  vast  distance  seemed  not  a  few.  Although  only 
the  bravest  and  the  strongest  were  venturing  upon 
this  quest  for  fortune,  from  every  gateway  some  one 
came  with  a  heavy  bundle  upon  his  back,  and  with 
a  heavier  heart  in  his  bosom,  and  a  hundred  patron 
saints  heard  petitions  for  a  favourable  journey  and  a 
prosperous  future. 

The  procession  formed  in  front  of  Suszka's  house 
and  started  without  the  waving  of  banners  or  the 
notes  of  solemn  chants.  Pavel,  resplendent  as  usual, 
with  the  shining  diamond  in  his  shirt  bosom,  was  the 
priest  who  led  his  followers  down  the  hill  and  then 
out  to  the  highway. 

At  its  edge,  close  to  the  dusty  road,  they  passed 
the  Jewish  cemetery,  where  many  years  ago  they  had 
laid  away  the  form  of  Samuel's  mother. 

While  the  procession  moved  heedlessly  on,  Samuel 
lingered,  and,  turning  aside  from  the  road,  waded 
through  the  dry,  tangled  grass  into  the  God's  acre. 
He  tore  leaves  from  the  dying  stalks  of  the  poppies 
that  grew  by  the  wayside  and  laid  them  upon  her 
grave,  while  unspeakable  pain  filled  his  heart.  Prone 
upon  the  ground  he  lay,  crying:  "Oh,  mitterleben, 
mitterleben,  forgive,  forgive  me !  I  took  your  life 


130  THE  MEDIATOR 

when  I  came  into  the  world,  and  I  have  brought 
sorrow  and  care  and  grief  and  death  to  others  !  For 
give  me,  forgive  me  !  " 

Long  he  lay  there,  speechless  and  motionless. 
Then  he  sprang  from  the  grave,  roused  by  the  ring 
ing  of  the  church  bells,  jarring  every  nerve  of  his 
soul.  Mechanically,  his  lips  began  to  repeat  the 
"Hail,  Mary!  full  of  grace"  ;  but,  at  the  words, 
something  seemed  to  give  way  within  him,  as  if  a 
dried-up  spring  had  suddenly  received  back  its 
ceaseless  flow,  and  he  cried  out,  almost  defiantly,  the 
prayer  of  the  Jewish  mourner:  "Yisgadal,  Yiska- 
dash  Schmeh  raboh." 

Notes  of  defiance  they  were,  rather  than  of  com 
fort,  the  prayer  in  which  the  Jew  loses  his  per 
sonal  grief  in  the  contemplation  of  the  majesty  of 
God. 

"  Now,  let  the  name  of  the  Eternal  be  extolled, 
as  thou  hast  declared,  saying  :  *  Remember  thy  mer 
cies  and  thy  kindness,  for  they  are  from  old.' 

"  Exalted  and  sanctified  be  His  great  name  through 
out  the  world  which  He  created  in  accordance  with 
His  will.  May  His  kingdom  be  established  during 
your  life,  and  in  your  days,  and  in  the  lifetime  of 
all  the  house  of  Israel,  speedily  and  in  a  short  time  ; 
and  say  ye,  Amen. 

1  'May  His  great  name  be  blessed  forever,  and  to 
all  eternity. 

"  Blessed,  praised,  glorified,  extolled,  magnified, 


GENUS  AMEKICANUS  131 

honoured,  exalted  and  lauded  be  the  great  name  of 
the  Eternal  alone.  Blessed  be  He — in  accents  more 
exalted  than  all  the  blessings,  hymns,  praises,  and 
comforts  that  can  be  employed  in  this  world  ;  and 
say  ye  Amen  !" 

Then  came  the  closing  sentence,  floating  into 
Samuel's  thought  like  a  benediction. 

"Be  not  afraid  of  sudden  dread,  or  of  the  desola 
tion  of  the  wicked  when  it  cometh.  Take  counsel 
and  it  shall  be  annulled,  speak  a  word  and  it  shall 
not  stand ;  for  God  is  with  us.  And  even  to  your 
old  age  I  am  He,  and  even  in  old  age  will  I  bear  thy 
burden.  I  have  made  it  and  I  will  carry,  I  will  bear, 
the  burden  and  free  you ! " 


XII 


IN  a  wilderness  of  masts  stood  the  gigantic  ship, 
full  of  humanity,  each  deck  crowded  by  an  im 
movable  throng  benumbed  by  the  thrill  and  ex 
citement  of  the  moment. 

A  gentle  tremor  ran  along  the  centre  of  the  ship, 
communicating  itself  to  every  taut  rope  and  far- 
stretching  iron  railing,  while  the  volumes  of  black 
smoke  which  hung  about  the  four  great  funnels 
were  thrown  high  in  air,  as  if  a  volcano  had 
wakened  into  action.  Fleecy  jets  of  steam  escaped 
from  the  huge  valves,  seeking  the  black  cloud,  their 
powerful  parent;  together  they  travelled  over  the 
highest  masts  towards  the  crowded  roofs  of  the  city, 
and  finally  wound  themselves  about  the  gray  steeples 
of  the  ancient  cathedral.  The  hawsers  were  thrown 
back  on  to  the  dock,  the  roustabouts  busied  them 
selves,  pulling  them  out  of  the  water,  a  mighty 
shout  rose  from  the  crowd  on  shore  and  was  an 
swered  more  faintly  by  the  passengers  afloat ;  then  a 
deep  silence  hovered  over  all,  broken  only  by  the 
sharp  command  of  the  pilot  as  he  guided  the  vessel 
out  of  the  tortuous  windings  of  the  docks. 

At  last  the  ship  stood  in  mid-stream,  the  band 
played  a  lively  tune,  and,  like  doves  wildly  beating 

132 


"A  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM"      133 

the  air,  handkerchiefs  waved  the  last  farewells ;  little 
bits  of  white  linen  fast  fading  from  sight,  reminding 
the  travellers  of  ties  broken  by  the  sailing  of  the 
ship. 

Vainly  the  band  played  its  liveliest  airs ;  each  note 
only  accentuated  the  pain  of  parting,  and  the  tears 
came  unbidden,  even  to  those  who  had  left  no  friends 
behind. 

With  each  outward  stroke  of  the  huge  engines  the 
forest  of  masts  on  the  horizon  lost  itself  more  com 
pletely  in  the  gray  of  the  sky,  the  great  Gothic 
cathedral  still  standing  out  clearly  above  the  red 
roofs  of  the  town ;  but  it,  too,  grew  fainter  and 
fainter,  until  at  last  there  remained  only  a  strip  of 
yellow  sand,  bitten  through  by  tide  and  storm — the 
frayed  edges  of  the  Fatherland. 

Samuel  watched  the  fading  of  the  shore  without 
regret,  for  the  last  months  had  taught  him  the  bitter 
lesson  that  he  had  no  Fatherland.  Until  his  thir 
teenth  year  he  had  been  able  to  look  at  its  hills  and 
mountains,  and  find  joy  in  them,  only  when  he 
stealthily  took  his  gaze  from  the  all-absorbing 
Talmud,  and  from  the  "mountains  round  about 
Jerusalem"  which  shut  out  the  whole  world.  Then 
came  the  great  revolution  in  his  life,  brought  about 
by  his  hunger  for  the  beautiful  and  the  ideal;  the 
wooing  of  his  soul  by  the  great  minds,  which  seemed 
to  be  spirit  of  his  spirit ;  his  flight  from  what  he  re 
garded  as  his  Jewish  prison,  and  his  entrance  into 


134  THE  MEDIATOE 

the  monastery.  The  years  which  followed  were  dead 
years  ;  he  could  see  that  clearly  now.  Then  the  pas 
sion  to  redeem  his  people  grew  in  his  heart  and  made 
the  years,  those  blurred  years,  tolerable.  Dark 
years  they  were,  too,  for  he  dared  not  find  pleasure 
in  nature  or  in  God's  living  things,  and  he  had  spent 
his  young  manhood  in  a  tomb.  When  he  reached 
his  goal,  with  the  chance  to  bless  and  to  save,  at 
the  very  height  of  all  his  hopes  came  their  swift 
collapse,  the  beating  back  of  his  ambitions,  and  the 
shipwreck  of  his  faith. 

Once  more  he  saw  himself  walking  through  Kot- 
towin,  through  the  Jews'  street,  rising  from  its  ruins 
by  the  indomitable  energy  of  its  inhabitants ;  for  to  a 
people  which  still  hopes  to  rebuild  Jerusalem  the  re 
building  of  Kottowin  is  but  child's  play — over  the 
bridge,  through  the  toll-gate,  past  the  rows  of  lilac 
and  the  Pany's  house. 

No  banners  waved,  no  band  played  wild  melodies, 
no  church  bells  assaulted  the  ears  of  God  ;  he  was  but 
one  of  a  vast  stream  of  humanity,  seeking  a  new  level, 
a  higher  level,  across  the  sea. 

In  that  stream  he  was  a  stranger ;  for  although  Suszka 
loved  him  and  cared  for  him,  he  realized  more  than 
ever  the  distance  between  him  and  her ;  and  although 
Anka  blushed  when  he  looked  at  her,  and  sighed  as 
if  hungry  for  his  love,  he  found  in  her  no  kinship  for 
his  spirit,  while  of  his  flesh  he  had  long  ago  become 
the  master. 


"A  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM"      135 

Pavel's  coarseness  and  his  habitual  thirst  for  liquor, 
the  smell  of  garlic  among  the  mass  with  which  he 
travelled  through  Europe,  repelled  him,  and  repelled 
him  the  more  as  he  saw  the  world,  that  great  world 
of  Goethe  and  Schiller,  scanty  but  beautiful  glimpses 
of  which  he  caught  through  the  window  of  the  car, 
which  he  did  not  leave  day  nor  night.  In  that  ugly 
mass  of  crushed  humanity  which  came  pouring  over 
the  Eussian  border,  driven  by  the  tempest  of  hate,  he 
could  find  no  companionship,  save  that  of  their  com 
mon  suffering,  nor  could  he  yet  drink  of  that  common 
cup  of  woe ;  for  his  own  was  full  to  overflowing.  A 
wild  desire  took  hold  of  him  to  free  himself  from  all 
human  ties,  just  to  live  for  himself  j  to  taste  life 
through  and  through,  and  taste  its  sweet  or  its  bitter, 
unshared  and  unsharing.  Every  link  that  bound 
him  to  'his  race  seemed  broken  ;  yet  the  word  Jew 
hung  over  him  like  a  pall.  He  hated  the  sound  of 
it,  for  it  always  came  mockingly  to  his  ears  and  tasted 
bitter  upon  his  lips.  The  Christian  vows  which  he 
had  made  before  the  altar,  and  which  bound  him  in 
obedience  to  the  Church,  had  been  shattered  by  the 
unrestrained  mob,  which,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  had 
burned,  plundered,  and  killed  his  kinsmen.  He  was 
free — free  to  hate,  and  he  hated  them  all  alike,  Jews 
and  Gentiles,  who  crowded  the  ship.  What  were 
they  to  him  ?  Nothing,  nothing ! 

Three  days  and  three  nights  he  stayed  on  deck, 
away  from  the  woe  which  had  gripped  the  entire 


136  THE  MEDIATOR 

steerage,  while  the  great  ship  was  being  tossed  about 
on  the  bosom  of  the  deep.  "Wet  to  the  skin,  hungry 
and  cold,  he  delighted  in  the  wild  shriek  of  the  wind, 
in  the  hungry  lapping  of  the  waves,  and  in  his  isola 
tion  from  his  fellow  men. 

For  three  days  he  had  tasted  this  joy,  this  fierce 
joy  of  being  alone,  of  feeling  no  burden,  no  passion, 
no  care,  no  present  grief ;  of  having  neither  sorrow 
nor  joy  to  share.  He  stood  by  the  prow  of  the  boat 
that  the  dashing  of  the  waves  might  silence  the  cries 
of  the  sick  ;  cries  which  rose  from  the  depths  of  the 
steerage,  like  the  shrieks  of  the  damned  in  the  throes 
of  hell.  ' '  Let  them  look  out  for  themselves, ' '  he  said 
to  himself.  * '  What  need  I  care  ? ' ' 

Then  the  wailing  of  a  little  child  mingled  with  the 
winds  blowing  through  the  ropes  that  ran  up  to  one 
of  the  steel  masts,  and  he  listened  to  it  as  he  had  lis 
tened  to  the  wailing  of  the  wind  ;  but  it  became  more 
human  and  more  insistent,  and  he  was  compelled  to 
turn  his  face  from  the  sea. 

There  upon  the  deck  lay  a  small  child  wrapped  in 
a  gray  blanket,  taken  from  one  of  the  steerage  bunks. 
A  few  feet  from  it  sprawled  a  woman,  evidently  des 
perately  sick. 

In  a  moment  Samuel  had  the  child  in  his  arms  and 
saw  that  it  also  was  sick  ;  then  he  went  to  the  woman, 
dragged  her  to  the  steam-pipes,  and  covered  her  with 
his  mantle. 

As  the  sun  began  to  shine,  men,  women  and  chil- 


"A  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM"      137 

dren  came  crawling  from  below,  and  lay  prone  upon 
the  deck.  Samuel's  heart  went  out  to  all  of  them, 
and  he  found  his  home  again  in  this  Fatherland  of 
misery,  the  boundaries  of  which  are  not  measured  by 
the  seas. 

To  and  fro  he  went,  bringing  shawls  for  the  old 
German  women  whose  language  was  like  his  own 
mother  tongue,  going  up  and  down  the  crowded  deck 
with  the  ugly  gray  blankets,  covering  much  naked 
ness  and  warming  many  a  cold  body  ;  yet  always 
looking  after  the  sick  child  which  had  first  claimed 
his  attention. 

The  food  doled  out  to  the  steerage  passengers  was 
not  fit  to  eat ;  the  water  was  brackish,  and  a  bit  of 
fruit  or  a  reviving  cup  of  tea  could  not  be  either 
begged  or  purchased.  The  suffering  thus  brought 
upon  Samuel's  fellow  passengers  became  his  suffering, 
and  without  any  thought  of  himself  he  began  to  climb 
the  steps  which  led  to  the  first  cabin  deck,  and  then  to 
the  captain's  bridge,  where  he  intended  to  lodge  com 
plaint.  He  had  just  climbed  over  the  top  of  the 
railing,  in  a  clumsy  sort  of  way,  when  a  burly  sailor, 
without  saying  a  word,  struck  him  a  blow  in  the 
chest  which  made  him  reel,  and  nearly  landed  him  on 
the  deck  below.  In  imagination,  he  heard  Dr.  Eosnik 
saying:  "Oy  !  oy  !  already  he  has  mackes,"  when 
he  felt  a  hand  stretched  out  towards  him  and  clutch 
ing  his  coat.  Balancing  himself,  he  stood  face  to  face 
with  a  woman,  and  as  he  looked  at  her  he  was  con- 


138  THE  MEDIATOE 

scions  of  nothing  but  a  glow  of  pity  from  dark  eyes, 
which  shone  like  candlelight  from  out  the  sacred  en 
closure  of  a  chapel ;  or  like  the  stars  he  used  to  see 
from  his  cell,  shining  through  a  cloud  and  reminding 
him  of  the  eyes  of  the  Madonna  when  she  looked  at 
her  crucified  Son. 

Samuel  knew  little  about  women,  except  that 
whenever  he  had  gone  abroad  from  the  monastery  he 
was  warned  not  to  look  at  them,  for  in  that  look 
lurked  the  greatest  danger  to  his  soul.  He  had 
looked  into  Suszka's  wholesome  but  rather  coarse 
face,  his  aunt's  unsympathetic  and  scarcely  human 
countenance,  into  Anka's  voluptuous  face,  the  only 
young  face  he  knew,  and,  when  he  looked  at  her,  he 
thought  that  the  monks  were  right.  Now,  as  he 
glanced  once  more  at  this  woman  who  had  saved  him 
from  falling,  and  again  saw  only  her  eyes,  and  again 
thought  only  .of  holy  candlelight — he  knew  that  the 
monks  were  wrong. 

"Did  that  brute  hurt  you?"  she  said  in  broken 
German,  in  a  voice  gentle  and  not  unmusical. 
Samuel  looked  her  full  in  the  face  now,  as  he  might 
have  looked  into  the  face  of  some  saint  before  whose 
image  he  was  pouring  out  his  gratitude.  "No,  he 
did  not  injure  me  ;  for  which  I  to  you  am  very  thank 
ful,"  Samuel  replied  in  his  dictionary  English,  glad 
of  an  opportunity  to  show  his  knowledge  of  it. 

Then  he  told  her  how  it  all  came  about,  and  she 
grew  pale  when  he  spoke  of  the  horrors  of  the  steer- 


"  A  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM  »      139 

age,  of  the  poor  food,  and  of  the  sick  child  and  its 
mother,  and  she  hurried  away  without  saying  another 
word  to  him. 

When  he  climbed  back,  the  steerage  received  him 
with  a  jeer.  The  men  laughed  at  him  and  seemed  to 
enjoy  his  encounter  with  the  sailor,  and  the  women 
grinned  as  if  it  had  been  a  good  joke  ;  for  to  the  un 
fortunate  more  misfortune  is  the  only  joke,  and  they 
meant  no  harm  by  their  mirth  ;  but  it  hurt,  oh,  how 
it  hurt ! 

Only  a  few  minutes  had  passed  when  he  saw  his 
new  acquaintance  coming  down  the  iron  stairs,  fol 
lowed  by  a  man  of  middle  age,  whose  face  was  like 
her  face  ;  only  his  was  sharpened  by  action,  while 
hers  was  softened  by  meditation  and  made  more 
beautiful  by  it.  Her  eyes  were  like  bits  of  dark  blue 
sky  shining  between  the  clouds ;  while  his  had  in 
them  a  glint  of  fire,  as  if  lightning  had  been  caught 
there  and  had  remained.  She  carried  a  box 
and  he  a  basket.  The  basket  was  full  of  oranges  and 
grapes,  while  the  box  held  sweetmeats.  The  crowd 
nearly  crushed  both  father  and  daughter,  and  the 
children  clung  to  the  daughter's  skirts,  asking  for 
more  and  more.  She  shook  the  last  crumbs  of  sweets 
over  the  heads  of  the  children,  and  then  walked  over 
to  where  Samuel  stood.  Her  father  followed  her,  and 
asked  Samuel  in  a  somewhat  brusque  way  to  show 
them  the  steerage. 

He   took    them   back  and  forth  over  the  three 


140  THE  MEDIATOE 

crowded  steerage  decks,  and  down  to  the  uttermost 
depths  of  the  ship,  where  the  impact  of  each  wave 
was  felt,  where  the  chorus  of  hundreds  of  crying 
children  greeted  them,  where  men  and  women  lay 
huddled  together  upon  their  bunks,  sick,  pale,  and 
trembling,  waiting  for  their  doom  ;  where,  in  a  space 
none  too  great  for  half  their  number,  fifteen  hundred 
human  beings  were  packed.  The  air,  already  heavy 
from  the  odours  of  the  ship,  and  the  all-pervading 
smell  of  carbolic  acid,  was  made  more  foul  by  the 
breath  of  that  mass  of  sick  and  dirty  humanity. 
Bough  sailors  dealt  out  blows  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left,  not  caring  where  they  fell,  while  the  ship's  crew 
was  already  beginning  its  lustful  search  among  un 
protected  and  innocent  girls.  The  visitors  also  saw 
Samuel's  new-found  burden,  the  Eussian  woman  and 
her  child,  both  more  sick  than  any  of  them  realized. 

"Papa,  what  can  we  do?"  the  daughter  said,  as 
with  tear-dimmed  eyes  she  saw  the  horror  of  it  all. 
When  at  last  they  stood  upon  the  deck  again  and 
could  breathe  the  refreshing  air,  her  father  answered  : 

"We'll  do  something,  and  do  it  mighty  quick, 
even  if  we  have  to  organize  a  mutiny  on  board  ship. 
This  looks  somewhat  like  the  old  slave  trade,  and  I 
am  not  going  to  stand  it." 

Samuel  watched  them  as  they  moved  across  the 
slippery  steerage  deck,  and  climbed  the  same  iron 
stairs  from  which  he  had  nearly  been  thrown. 
Higher  and  higher  they  went,  to  the  captain's  bridge, 


"A  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM"      141 

and  the  watcher's  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer :  "  Oh, 
Mary,  Mother  of  God,  intercede  for  us  !  " 

Very  soon  he  noticed  a  group  of  cabin  passengers 
crowding  to  the  railing  and  looking  down  into  the 
steerage  ;  then  the  ship's  doctor  came  hurrying  along, 
as  if  he  really  meant  business.  The  hospital  doors 
were  thrown  open,  and  the  sick  mother  was  led  gently 
to  a  whiter  cot  than  she  had  ever  occupied.  The 
little  sick  child  was  carried  in  by  Samuel,  but  when 
he  tried  to  lay  it  down  by  its  mother's  side  it  cried 
so  piteously  that  he  held  it  in  his  own  arms,  while 
the  nurse  unwrapped  it  from  its  swathings  of  dirt. 

As  the  doctor  looked  at  the  little  bundle  of  skin 
and  bone,  and  felt  for  the  beating  of  its  heart,  he 
shook  his  head,  then  closed  the  door,  shutting 
Samuel  in  with  his  old-time  friends,  sorrow  and 
death. 


In  the  dark  depths  of  the  ship,  men  and  women 
tried  to  forget  the  agonies  of  the  journey  in  troubled 
sleep.  The  cabin  decks,  too,  grew  silent,  except 
where  here  and  there  love,  or  love's  counterfeit, 
whispered  the  old,  old  story  into  receptive  ears. 
The  rhythmic  stroke  of  the  great  engines  was  heard 
above  the  rattle  and  clatter  of  the  responsive  nerves 
wound  about  the  body  of  the  ship,  the  sharp  clang 
of  the  bell  marked  the  hours  which  came  and  went 
from  immeasurable  time  into  eternity,  and,  from  the 


142  THE  MEDIATOE 

crow's  nest,  where  man  kept  watch  over  the  trackless 
waste,  came  a  voice — "All's  well  on  board  !"  Yet 
the  same  breath  of  wind  which  carried  that  voice  out 
upon  the  deep,  carried  with  it  the  soul  of  a  little 
child,  whose  lifeless  body  lay  in  Samuel's  arms. 

Its  mother  was  unconscious  of  present  grief,  for 
typhoid  fever  was  consuming  her  vitality,  and  her 
brain  was  busy  with  troubles  of  the  past,  as  she  tossed 
about  on  the  narrow  cot,  muttering  unceasingly : 
"  Strashno,  strashno  1 "  (terrible,  terrible  !)  "  Leave 
me  alone,  you  fiends,"  she  cried.  "Leave  me  alone ; 
I  am  a  married  woman ;  leave  me  alone."  Then, 
after  a  moment's  quiet,  the  parched  lips  would  move 
again.  "Hush,  baby,  we're  going  to  papa!  Be 
still,  baby  dear,  we're  going  to  papa,  and  he'll  buy 
sugar  plums  for  his  baby  ;  yes,  papa  will  take  care 
of  his  golden  baby  j "  and  she  rocked  her  empty  arms 
to  and  fro.  ' '  Does  it  hurt,  baby,  my  golden  baby  ? 
Oh,  how  it  does  hurt,  how  it  does  hurt !  Poor  baby, 
poor  papa  !  "  and  then  her  voice  would  lose  itself  in 
unintelligible  mutterings.  Again  and  again  Samuel 
could  hear:  "Do  leave  me  alone,  you  ruffians  !  I 
am  a  married  woman.  Oh  !  leave  me  alone !  " 

The  sharp  clang  of  the  bell  still  measured  off  the 
night,  careless  of  the  dead  hours  which  dropped  into 
the  fathomless  past,  as  if  there  were  no  heart  back  of 
time,  no  pitying  Father's  face — only  the  cold,  unfeel 
ing  dial-plate,  which  measured  and  struck  out  hours 
and  the  lives  of  men  with  the  same  pitiless  exactness. 


"A  CHILD  SHALL  LEAD  THEM"      143 

Aud  above  the  sharp,  clanging  bell,  Samuel  could 
hear,  as  if  in  mockery,  the  voice  of  the  sailor  who 
kept  his  watch:  "All's  well  onboard!"  "All's 
well  on  board !" 

With  the  gray  of  the  morning,  just  as  the  east  was 
beginning  to  be  touched  by  returning  day,  two  sailors 
came  to  carry  out  the  child.  Samuel  followed  them 
all  along  the  ship  to  where  the  great  screws  were 
churning  the  deep  Into  foam  ;  where  on  either  side  of 
the  steamer  the  waters  bubbled  and  roared  and  hissed 
and  shrieked.  In  the  centre  of  these  tumultuous 
waves  the  broad  track  left  by  the  ship  was  deeply 
calm,  and,  as  the  sun  began  to  rise  higher  and  higher, 
it  looked  like  a  roadway  beaten  over  with  gold.  The 
morning  mists  lifted,  and  flanked  the  golden  highway, 
turning  the  anger  of  the  deep  into  the  glory  of  the 
Apocalypse. 

The  rude  little  coflQn  rested  upon  the  railing  of  the 
trembling  ship,  which  moved  steadily  over  the  glori 
fied  deep ;  the  captain  and  the  physician  appeared 
and  took  their  posts  on  either  side  of  the  coffin.  They 
uncovered  their  heads  and  waited  for  Samuel  to  con 
duct  the  service,  for  both  his  bearing  and  his  face 
betrayed  the  priest ;  but  he  stood  speechless,  looking 
out  upon  that  golden  path  which  grew  more  mys 
terious  and  wonderful  as  the  twilight  changed  into 
the  morning  and  the  sunlight  poured  itself  upon  the 
ocean  as  if  eager  to  consume  it. 

"Pray!"  the  captain  called  out,  as  if  he  were 


144  THE  MEDIATOR 

commanding  his  sailors.  Vainly,  Samuel  tried  to  be 
obedient  to  the  captain's  voice  ;  but  his  heart  was 
numb  from  inward  pain,  and  his  lips  were  dumb 
from  the  wonder  of  sea  and  sky. 

Then  came  the  stern  word  "Ready!"  and  the 
sailors  lifted  the  coffin  from  the  railing,  letting  it 
down  slowly  from  the  side  of  the  ship ;  the  ropes 
slid  from  underneath,  it  was  tossed  out  upon  the 
golden  path  by  the  revolving  screws  and  sank  into 
the  silent  depths,  while  the  voice  of  the  captain  re 
peated,  mechanically,  and  without  feeling:  "We 
commit  dust  to  dust,  ashes  to  ashes,  the  body  unto 
the  deep  and  the  spirit  unto  God  who  gave  it.  The 
Lord  hath  given,  the  Lord  hath  taken  away  :  blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord  ! "  A  woman's  voice  said 
tenderly  and  audibly,  "Amen!"  and  that  voice 
roused  Samuel  from  his  pain  and  wonder. 


XIII 
THE  ZIONISTS 

SAMUEL  knew  who  had  breathed  that  bene 
diction  upon  the  tumult  of  his  spirit,  and  he 
felt  that  if  he  could  cast  himself  down  before 
her  she  might  win  back  his  wrecked  faith  into  some 
secure  harbour.     Yet  he  did  not  lift  his  eyes  to  meet 
hers,  and  while  inwardly  hungry  for  a  glimpse  of 
her  face  and  for  the  tender  light  which  glowed  in  her 
eyes,  he  moved  slowly  towards  the  steps  which  led 
back  to  the  steerage. 

At  the  foot  of  the  steps,  when  his  feet  had  already 
touched  the  slippery  boards  of  the  deck,  he  looked 
up  and  saw  her  eyes  resting  upon  him,  the  glistening 
sunlight  reflected  in  her  tears.  "Good-morning," 
she  called  out  to  him  ;  but  he  stood  immovable,  as  if 
held  by  a  spell,  while  he  looked  up  and  filled  every 
empty  recess  of  his  love-hungry  soul.  Then,  turn 
ing,  as  if  eager  to  hide  his  treasure,  he  ran  across  the 
still  empty  deck  towards  the  hospital. 

Before  he  reached  the  door,  he  heard  the  wild  cries 
of  the  mother  whose  child  had  just  been  buried,  and 
when  he  entered  the  room  he  found  the  nurse  vainly 
struggling  to  keep  her  patient  upon  the  cot.  She 
had  missed  her  child,  and  was  frantic  from  grief. 

145 


146  THE  MEDIATOE 

"My  child,  my  golden  child!"  she  cried.  "Give 
me  my  golden  child  !  What  have  they  done  to  you, 
my  sweet  baby  dear  ?  Have  the  Goyim  taken  my 
golden  child  from  me?  Oy,  oy,  oy ! " 

Samuel  motioned  the  nurse  away,  and  sat  down  by 
the  cot.  He  touched  the  burning  forehead  with  his 
delicate,  sensitive  fingers,  and  spoke  gently  and 
tenderly  to  the  mother,  as  if  she  were  the  babe  and 
he  were  soothing  her  to  sleep. 

"Your  golden  baby  is  sleeping  in  a  golden  cradle, 
and  a  beautiful  woman,  with  hair  like  a  golden 
crown,  is  rocking  the  golden  cradle,  and  the  baby  is 
sound  asleep,  sound  asleep,  upon  a  pillow  of  down, 
plucked  from  the  breast  of  a  golden  swan;  sound 
asleep,  yes,  sound  asleep  ! " 

All  the  time  he  spoke,  Samuel's  fingers  moved 
over  the  mother's  forehead,  until  the  tense  body 
grew  less  rigid  and  she  sank  into  a  quiet  and  com 
forted  sleep.  As  he  lifted  his  wearied  hand  from  her 
forehead,  and  the  pain  of  it  all  went  surging  through 
his  soul,  he  groaned  aloud,  vainly  trying  to  relieve 
himself  of  the  burden  of  woe. 

Laying  his  head  in  utter  weariness  upon  the  rail 
ing  of  the  cot,  he  abandoned  himself  to  bitter 
thoughts  until  he  felt  a  delicate  touch  upon  his 
shoulders,  and,  looking  up,  he  saw  her  standing  by 
his  side,  her  face  reflecting  his  grief.  She  did  not 
say  a  word,  but,  sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  the  cot, 
beckoned  to  her  father  who  was  waiting  in  the  door« 


THE  ZIONISTS  147 

way.  He  entered  and  stood  beside  his  daughter, 
both  of  them  looking  at  Samuel  in  sympathetic  pity. 

A  holy  silence  fell  upon  the  room,  disturbed  at 
last  by  the  nurse,  who  suggested  that  visitors  should 
not  remain  too  long.  When  Samuel  rose  to  say 
good-bye  to  his  guests  he  showed  such  weariness  that 
they  insisted  upon  his  going  with  them.  On  the 
clean  upper  deck  they  made  him  comfortable  in  a 
steamer-chair,  and  ordered  breakfast  to  be  brought 
to  him.  The  food  refreshed  him,  and  her  presence 
seemed  to  drive  out  all  the  pain  and  bitter  memories 
of  the  yesterdays ;  yet  he  could  not  shake  from  him 
the  past,  as  the  deck  below  became  crowded  by  the 
steerage  passengers — his  brothers  and  sisters  in  the 
great  misery. 

Polish  women  squatted  on  the  deck,  unwashed, 
unkempt,  and  scantily  clothed.  Among  them  he 
could  see  Suszka  and  her  daughter,  just  so  much 
flesh  and  rags,  with  the  rest.  Eussian  Jews  stood  in 
one  group,  with  faces  turned  towards  the  East,  bend 
ing  their  already  bowed  backs,  as  they  swayed  to 
and  fro,  in  the  wild  lamentations  which  voiced  at 
once  their  sorrow  and  their  gladness. 

After  Samuel  had  eaten,  his  host  said:  "My 
daughter  and  I  want  to  know  you  better.  My  name 
is  Bruce,  Abraham  Bruce,  and  this  is  my  daughter, 
Jane  Bruce."  After  Miss  Bruce  had  interpreted  for 
Samuel  her  father's  quickly  spoken,  nasal  English, 
they  waited  for  him  to  speak. 


148  THE  MEDIATOE 

He  replied :  "  It  is  to  me  a  great  honour  of  meeting 
you" — but  his  name — what  was  his  name?  It  had 
so  long  been  Brother  Gregorius.  Was  it  Samuel 
Cohen  ?  Cohen — how  the  name  mocked  him,  how  it 
branded  him  a  despised  Jew !  No,  he  would  not 
carry  the  shame  of  it  and  the  taint  of  it  across  the 
sea.  "  Gregoro witch,  my  name  is  Gregoro witch." 

A  mischievous  smile  played  over  the  sharp  features 
of  Mr.  Bruce,  and  he  said  :  "I  don't  want  to  have  to 
sneeze  and  cough  every  time  I  pronounce  your  name, 
so  I  am  going  to  call  you  Gregory,  for  short ;  you 
might  just  as  well  let  me  amputate  that '  witch '  now, 
for  somebody  is  bound  to  do  that,  or  something 
even  worse.  They  may  call  you  Greg.  They  call 
me  Abe,  and  when  they  have  breath  to  spare  they 
call  me  A.  B.,  so,  let's  shake  on  it,  Mr.  Gregory" — 
and,  taking  Samuel's  hand,  he  shook  it  heartily. 

Again  Miss  Bruce  had  to  interpret  much  of  her 
father's  speech,  and  then,  with  the  same  mischiev 
ous  smile  which  had  played  on  his  face,  she  said : 
"Papa,  when  you  go  to  heaven  you  are  going  to 
shock  the  Keeper  of  the  Keys ;  for  you  will  say  to 
him,  '  Hallo,  Pete  ! '  and  your  lack  of  manners  may 
keep  you  out  of  your  golden  mansion,  in  spite  of 
your  orthodoxy." 

"  That's  an  old  joke,  Jane,"  he  replied.  "  I  wish 
I  were  as  sure  of  your  going  to  heaven  on  your  good 
manners  as  I  am  of  going  there  on  my  orthodoxy. 
And  now  keep  your  unruly  member  in  strict  control 


THE  ZIONISTS  149 

while  I  talk  to  Mr.  Gregory.  You  may  have  your 
chance  when  we  use  you  as  an  interpreter.  What  is 
your  Fatherland  ?  "  Mr.  Bruce  said  to  Samuel. 

"I  haven't  any,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Did  he  understand  me,  Jane?"  he  asked  his 
daughter. 

"  I  think  he  did,"  she  replied.  "Your  German 
is  perfect." 

"  Why  have  you  no  Vaterland  ?  "  Mr.  Bruce  asked 
again.  Samuel  did  not  answer. 

"Where  from  are  you?"  Mr.  Bruce  further  ques 
tioned,  twisting  his  English  to  make  it  sound  like 
foreign  speech ;  and  again  Samuel  did  not  answer. 
His  face  looked  troubled  and  he  tried  to  rise,  in  his 
embarrassment. 

Miss  Bruce  motioned  him  back,  saying  :  "  You 
mustn't  mind  my  father  ;  he  l  carries  his  heart  on  his 
sleeve,'  as  we  say,  and  he  thinks  that  everybody  else 
has  to  do  the  same." 

A  moment  of  silence  followed,  which  was  broken 
by  the  noises  from  the  steerage  growing  louder  and 
louder,  a  mixture  of  sounds  and  tongues,  above 
which  the  Yiddish  of  the  Eussian  Jews  rose,  with  its 
greasy,  gutteral  quality.  In  spite  of  himself,  Samuel 
began  to  listen,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  fifty  men 
were  speaking  at  the  same  time,  although  the  voice 
of  one  man  kept  itself  floating  above  the  rest. 

Miss  Bruce,  who  had  followed  his  troubled  look, 
saw  it  resting  upon  a  group  of  Jews,  whose  long 


150  THE  MEDIATOR 

black  coats  accentuated  their  haggard  forms,  and 
upon  whose  unwashed,  bearded  faces  an  unusual  ex 
citement  showed  itself. 

j  "  The  Jews  are  my  father's  pet  hobby,"  she  said 
to  Samuel.  "  He  calls  them  the  miracle  of  history." 

Samuel  replied:  "The  atonement  of  history,  or 
the  scapegoat  of  history,  would  be  a  better  term, 
would  it  not,  Miss  Bruce  ?  " 

" I  must  tell  papa  that,"  was  the  response;  and 
she  translated  it  to  her  father,  who  listened  with 
great  interest  and  then  said  :  "  Ask  him  why  the 
Russians  persecute  them." 

"  Why,  papa,  don't  you  know?  "  his  daughter  said, 
"that  they  may  be  a  miracle,  and  prove  that  a 
special  providence  watches  over  the  chosen  people  of 
God." 

"You  keep  still  and  let  him  do  the  talking ;  let 
him  talk  United  States  ;  he  does  well  enough,"  and 
Samuel  said,  in  his  broken  English  : 

"  Chosen  people,  Mr.  Bruce,  yes,  chosen  for  hittings 
over  their  backs  ;  don't  you,  too,  hate  the  Jews  ?  " 

"Hate  the  Jews?"  Mr.  Bruce  replied  indignantly. 
"  Hate  the  kinsmen  of  Paul,  hate  those  who  have  the 
same  blood  in  their  veins  as  the  Saviour?  " 

"  Oh  !  your  father  thinks  that  Jesus  and  Paul 
were  Jews  ! "  Samuel  said  in  German  to  Miss  Bruce. 
"If  I  should  tell  that  to  those  peasants  in  the 
steerage,  they  would  mob  me.  Jesus  is  God's  Son  to 
them,  and  God  Himself  is  a  Russian  Czar.  The  Apos- 


THE  ZIONISTS  151 

ties  are  all  Bussians  or  Poles  except  Judas ;  Judas 
is  the  only  Jew  among  all  the  Apostles.  I  have  seen 
a  thousand  images  of  Jesus  and  of  the  Apostles,  and 
they  all  looked  like  Italians,  or  Germans,  or  Bussians, 
according  to  the  nationality  of  the  sculptor  ;  but  all 
of  them  have  carved  a  Jewish  face  on  Judas'  form, 
they  all  agree  in  that." 

"  Why  do  you  call  the  Jews  the  scapegoat  of  his 
tory  ?  " 

"  In  Bussia,  when  the  cows  go  dry,  or  the  chickens 
lay  no  eggs,  or  if  there  is  war  or  pestilence,  it  is  the 
Jews'  fault,  and  they  get  '  Mackes '  for  it,  as  a  friend 
of  mine  used  to  say.  '  Mackes  gedeuloh '  ;  if  you 
knew  Hebrew,  Miss  Bruce,  you  would  know  that 
that  means  a  big  beating,  and  that's  what  they  have 
been  getting  these  two  thousand  years." 

The  tumult  increased  among  the  Jews  in  the  steer 
age  ;  every  one  of  them  was  gesticulating  wildly,  and 
the  whole  mass  seemed  to  be  talking  at  the  same 
time.  Little  by  little  the  noise  subsided,  and  a  young 
man,  more  emaciated-looking  than  the  rest,  his  hair 
and  beard  reddish  and  curly,  seemed  to  gain  control 
over  them ;  his  voice  rang  out  clearly,  and  Samuel 
could  hear  every  word  he  said.  "  Zion  is  our  only 
hope,  Bussia  will  kill  all  the  Jews,  one  pogrom  will 
follow  another.  Austria  doesn't  care  for  us  any 
more  than  Bussia  ;  Germany  is  as  full  of  anti-Semitism 
as  it  can  hold.  In  England,  also,  they  are  shutting 
the  door  against  us,  and  the  time  is  not  far  away 


152  THE  MEDIATOE 

when  they  will  do  the  same  thing  in  America.  Zion 
is  our  only  Fatherland.  Jerusalem  will  rise  out  of 
her  ruin  and  ashes,  and  become  the  glorious  capital 
of  Palestine." 

A  jeer  greeted  this  proclamation.  "  How  are  we 
going  to  get  there,  you  chochem  (wise  fellow),  how 
will  we  get  there  ?  " 

"Herzl  will  lead  us  there.  Herzl  is  our  new 
Moses." 

"Herzl  is  Moses  !  "  a  scornful  voice  cried. 

"Herzl  is  an  Epicurean,  a  Sabbath-breaker,  a  man 
who  doesn't  know  the  law  of  Moses,"  called  out  an 
other  dissenter. 

"He  doesn't  know  the  law  of  Moses?"  the  red- 
haired  youth  replied.  "He  knows  more  than  all  the 
moss-headed  Eabbis  put  together ;  he  is  a  prophet. 
I  have  seen  him  at  Basel  at  the  Congress,"  the  young 
man  continued, — "head  and  shoulders  he  stood 
above  us,  like  Saul,  the  son  of  Kish,  above  the  men 
of  Israel.  His  eyes  were  full  of  fire,  like  the  fire  of 
Sinai  which  was  reflected  in  the  eyes  of  Moses  ;  the 
spirit  of  God  rested  upon  him,  and  when  he  spoke  it 
was  as  still  at  the  Congress  as  when  Jehovah  spoke 
from  Sinai." 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  when  we  get  to  Zion?  " 
another  cried  out  impatiently. 

"Do?  work,  all  of  us  will  work  in  the  vineyards 
around  Jerusalem,  in  the  valleys  of  Chedron,  in  the 
shops  we  will  build  in  Jaffa." 


THE  ZIONISTS  153 

"Well,  if  we  must  work,  America  is  good  enough 
for  us,"  the  same  voice  replied. 

"Socialism  is  going  to  bring  that  kind  of  Zion," 
another  man  called  out,  "  and  Bebel  and  Liebknecht 
are  better  leaders  than  Herzl  and  Nordau." 

"Bebel  and  Liebknecht  are  Germans,  and  they 
care  as  much  for  you  as  Bismarck  or  Wilhelm  II. 
would,"  the  red-haired  man  retorted.  "If  they  es 
tablish  a  social  commonwealth  to-morrow  I'll  wager 
that  the  Jews  will  be  excluded  from  it.  "We  are 
Jews,  and  neither  Socialists  nor  Monarchists  care  for 
us.  We  have  to  get  back  our  own  Fatherland — Pal 
estine." 

"What  are  they  talking  about?"  Miss  Bruce 
asked  ;  and  Samuel,  his  face  flushed  from  the  excite 
ment  of  the  debate,  into  which  he  had  unconsciously 
entered,  replied : 

"Oh !  they  are  saying  that  the  Jews  will  all  go 
back  to  Palestine  and  have  their  own  government, 
and  that  a  man  by  the  name  of  Herzl  will  lead  them." 

"Papa,"  Miss  Bruce  cried  as  soon  as  Samuel  had 
finished  ;  "  those  men  down  there  are  saying  that 
some  day  they  are  going  back  to  Palestine  and  that 
they  will  restore  Jerusalem." 

"Didn't  I  tell  you,"  her  father  replied,  "that they 
are  the  '  Miracle  of  History '  !  " 

"But  how  will  that  be  possible,  papa!  Turkey 
owns  Palestine,  the  French  and  Germans  are  quar 
relling  about  the  protectorate,  the  Bussians  have 


164  THE  MEDIATOE 

their  monasteries  and  sacred  shrines,  the  Mohammed 
ans  hate  the  Jews.  It's  impossible  ! " 

11  Jane,  don't  you  know  that  the  Jews  have  always 
done  the  impossible  things  ?  " 

Just  then  a  voice  rose  from  the  steerage,  low  and 
vibrating,  like  the  tones  of  a  flute  j  it  grew  louder, 
gathering  to  itself  one  reluctant  voice  and  then  an 
other,  until  the  hundred-throated  throng  sang  in  per 
fect  unison : 

"  To  the  land  of  our  fathers  the  shepherd  is  going, 

He's  calling  together  his  far-scattered  flock  ; 
The  nations  confounded  are  looking  and  wondering, 
While  doubters  stand  ready  to  laugh  and  to  mock. 

"In  the  shadow  of  mountains,  in  depths  of  the  valleys, 

By  rivers  and  torrents  and  quieted  brook, 
The  sheep  of  Jehovah  are  feeding  in  Zion 
And  finding  rich  pasture  in  each  sheltered  nook." 


XIV 
THE   ANARCHIST 

ING,  you  fools  ! "  a  woman's  voice  rose  above 
the  exultant  chorus.  "Sing  your  Zionistic 
twaddle,  get  yourselves  ready,  again  to  be 
led  like  sheep  to  the  slaughter  !  Poor-looking  sacri 
fices  you'd  make  now,  not  worth  the  killing  !  Baa  ! 
Baa !  sheep — that's  all  Israel  has  seen  for  centuries, 
and  that's  what  you  all  are.  Just  as  one  begins  to 
bleat  Baa !  Baa !  Zion,  there  is  a  chorus  of  sheep 
bleating  Baa  !  Baa  ! " 

"We  are  sheep,  Eivka!  sheep,  you  say?"  the 
red-haired  youth  called  out  angrily.  "  For  the  first 
time  in  two  thousand  years  we  are  feeling  the  strength 
of  lions ;  but  because  we  don't  tear  and  destroy  and 
kill,  as  you  and  your  kind  are  doing,  you  call  us 
sheep.  We  will  fight  for  Zion  when  the  time  comes ; 
but  why  should  we  fight  for  Bussia  ?  Do  you  think 
that  the  Eussian  people  will  thank  you  for  killing 
that  brute  of  a  governor  f  You  think  that  you  are 
going  to  be  a  Eussian  saint  in  the  calendar  of  the  new 
Eussia.  You  are  going  to  be  like  the  rest  of  us,  just 
a  pest  and  a  nuisance.  A  fine  decoration  they  have 
bestowed  upon  you,  Eivka,  for  your  heroism,  haven't 
they  now,  haven't  they  ?  "  he  said  half-mockingly. 
"They  have,"  she  cried  with  vehemence.  "A 
155 


156  THE  MEDIATOR 

medal  which  I  wouldn't  exchange  for  any  of  silver  or 
gold.  I  am  proud  of  it.  Look,  Yankev,  look,  you 
Jewish  cowards,  who  run  from  a  policeman  as  if  he 
were  the  devil ;  look,  this  is  my  decoration  and  I  am 
proud  of  it !  "  She  lifted  the  palms  of  her  hands,  all 
burnt  and  still  sore  and  raw  in  spots,  "Look,  you 
cowardly  women  of  Israel,  who  are  getting  your  lips 
ready  to  drink  the  milk  and  suck  the  honey  of  Pal 
estine.  These  lips  had  to  suck  the  fire  of  dozens  of 
cigarettes  in  the  hands  of  the  Cossacks,  who  played 
with  me  as  if  I  were  a  little  guinea-pig  in  the  hands 
of  our  Professor  of  Zoology.  They  wanted  to  see 
what  a  Jewess  could  suffer  for  Russia,  and  I  showed 
them,  and  they  will  never  forget  it !  " 

" Never  forget  it?"  cried  Yankev,  the  red-haired 
youth,  in  derision  ;  "  never  forget  it  f  They  already 
have  forgotten  you,  Eivka ;  all  of  them  have  forgot 
ten  you  except  the  governor's  wife  and  his  little  chil 
dren.  They  still  think  of  you  affectionately." 

It  was  an  effective  blow  and  a  cruel  one ;  for  the 
woman  whose  face  was  cold  as  iron,  and  whose  fea 
tures  were  sharp  as  steel,  who  had  faced  death,  exile, 
and  long  wanderings  through  lonely  forests  to  escape 
her  tormentors — staggered  beneath  that  blow.  Her 
large,  almost  coarse  face,  seemed  to  grow  smaller 
and  the  hard  features  grew  soft  from  the  pain  of  it. 

With  a  visible  effort  she  drew  herself  up  to  reply ; 
but  her  voice  was  weak  as  she  said  :  ' l  You  are  cruel, 
Yankev,  although  you  are  right ;  the  widow  and  the 


THE  ANAECHIST  157 

children, — but  there  are  thousands  and  ten  thou 
sands  of  widows  and  orphans  who  will  remember 
their  avenger,  and  if  they  do  not  remember,"  her 
voice  grew  metallic  from  strength,  "I  shall  have 
done  my  duty  as  a  human  being ;  while  you  have 
turned  coward  like  a  Jew,  and  will  seek  your  solace 
among  the  sheep  in  the  pastures  of  Bethlehem. 
Baa  !  Baa  !  sheep,  the  sheep  of  Zion." 

Up  and  down  the  crowded  deck  she  walked,  beat 
ing  her  aching  hands  against  the  cold  air — a  pathetic 
sight.  Her  tall  thin  body  scantily  covered,  her  hair 
cut  short  and  uncombed,  her  face  with  its  heavy 
features  more  Eussian  than  Jewish,  the  whole  figure 
so  unattractive  physically,  yet  so  fascinating  ;  for  she 
carried  the  sorrow  of  an  empire  in  her  heart.  In 
spite  of  the  mannishness  of  her  attire  and  her  man 
ner,  there  was  a  maternal  sweetness  far  in  the  back 
ground  of  her  being,  which  shone  through,  in  spite 
of  herself. 

"I'd  rather  be  a  sheep  of  Zion,  Eivka,"  Yankev 
called  out  triumphantly,  "  than  a  dog  of  a  Jew  in 
Eussia  ;  and  that's  what  you  and  I  are  to  the  Eus- 
siaus,  in  spite  of  your  heroism  or  because  of  it.  Who 
among  your  Eussian  friends  regards  you  as  anything 
but  a  Jewess?  Eivka,  you  broke  your  father's  and 
mother's  hearts  by  flinging  your  Jewish  faith  and 
your  Jewish  morals  overboard  when  you  were  at  the 
University.  You  came  home  with  your  hair  cut 
short  and  walked  up  and  down  the  streets  of  Odessa 


158  THE  MEDIATOR 

with  a  cigarette  in  your  mouth,  with  a  book  uuder 
one  arm  and  a  Eussiau  student  hanging  on  to  the  other, 
and  when  the  Hooligans  came,  where  were  your 
Eussian  student  friends  to  protect  you  ?  But  even 
then  you  didn't  see  that  you  were  just  a  Jewess  !  We 
Jews  are  either  fearfully  sensitive  or  dreadfully  ob 
tuse.  They  tried  to  make  you  feel  your  Judaism  by 
burning  down  the  home  in  which  you  lived  and 
by  killing  your  father  and  mother.  Then  you  still 
wanted  to  prove  that  you  were  not  a  Jewess,  by  kill 
ing  the  Governor." 

11  Yankev,  my  family  history  is  none  of  your  busi 
ness,"  she  replied  hotly  ;  "but  as  for  my  Judaism; 
well  Judaism  to  the  Eussian  is  connected  only  with 
selling  liquor  to  the  peasants  and  robbing  them  of 
their  scant  wage ;  with  usury  of  the  worst  kind,  with 
keeping  houses  of  prostitution  ;  with  the  meanest 
kind  of  deception  in  business ;  with  a  whole  lot  of 
Jews  who,  like  yourself,  have  lived  in  Eussia  nearly 
a  lifetime  and  yet  were  hankering  always  after  Pales 
tine  " 

"  Now  they'll  know  that  Judaism  is  connected  with 
killing,"  Yankev  interrupted  her. 

"Yes,  with  killing,  Yankev,  with  suffering  in 
prisons  dark  and  damp,  like  stables,  with  long 
marches  to  Siberia  and  Manchuria,  without  complaint 
or  whining,  with  facing  the  scaffold  like  heroes  and 
heroines.  Yes,  Yankev,  with  fighting  and  winning 
freedom  for  the  Eussian  people.  You  and  your  kind, 


THE  ANAECHIST  159 

who  prate  about  being  patriotic  Jews,  who  say  you 
are  on  your  way  to  Zion,  you  will  go  to  America  and 
grow  fat  and  rich  and  be  just  pork.  Yankev,  you'll 
no  more  be  the  sheep  of  Zion,  the  lean  miserable 
sheep  of  Zion ;  you'll  be  the  fat  pork-stock  of 
Chicago,  ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  have  seen  them  come  home 
to  Odessa,  men  and  women  both,  after  being  in 
America  for  ten  years,  and  they  could  hardly  waddle 
through  the  streets,  so  fat  were  they.  They  had  dia 
monds  stuck  about  them,  as  a  sheep  has  thistles  when 
it  goes  through  a  hedge,  and  those  who  had  sung 
loudest  about  Zion's  flowing  with  milk  and  honey 
were  grunting  about  their  America  flowing  with  coal- 
oil  and  molasses.  Yankev,  I  can  see  you  now  as  you 
will  be  ten  years  hence  ;  red  hair  is  very  becoming  to 
fat  pigs." 

The  crowd  began  to  laugh ;  evidently  the  young 
woman  had  had  the  last  word,  and  made  it  very 
effective.  Yankev  vainly  tried  to  reply,  but  he  was 
beaten  and  they  all  knew  it.  The  laughter  rose 
higher  and  higher,  and  then  in  the  midst  of  their 
good-natured  banter  the  dinner-bell  rang.  In  a 
moment,  the  deck  was  deserted  ;  Bivka  and  Yankev 
alone  remained.  Eivka  paced  up  and  down,  Yankev 
following  ;  and  when  he  caught  up  with  her,  he  stam 
mered  his  apologies. 

"You  needn't  apologize,  Yankev,  it  isn't  worth 
talking  about.  Your  sheep  have  gone  to  be  fed  ;  why 
don't  you  go  with  them  ?  " 


160  THE  MEDIATOR 

"  Why  doii't  I  ?  You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  Rivka, 
that  I  don't  care  to  eat,  when  I  know  I  have  hurt 
you." 

"Hurt  met  You  can't  hurt  me,  Yankev.  You 
have  tried  many  a  time  to  do  it,  but  you  never  suc 
ceeded.  Nobody,  nothing,  can  hurt  me.'' 

"Rivka,"  the  ardent  Yankev  replied,  "am  I  to 
continue  to  be  nothing  to  you  ?  You  are  treating  me 
as  if  I  were  nothing  to  you." 

"Oh,  yes  !  Yankev,  you  are  my  Zionistic  sheep,  a 
sheep  with  nice  red  wool ;  come  let  me  pat  you  on 
your  curls ! " 

"  Rivka,  do  you  still  care  for  Alexis,  the  man  who 
deserted  you  when  you  needed  friends  and  protec 
tion?"  he  asked. 

"  Care  for  Alexis  ?  I  care  for  nobody.  I  care  only 
for  Russia.  To  Russia  I  am  willing  to  give  my  life, 
but  to  no  mere  man." 

"But  you  have  given  your  life  to  Alexis." 

"My  life,  Yankev?  My  life  I  have  given  to  no 
body.  I  liked  Alexis,  he  liked  me,  he  liked  other 
girls ;  he  said  he  loved  them  ;  they,  I  suppose,  told 
him  that  they  loved  him.  I  think  I  told  him  I  loved 
him ;  but  love,  Yankev,  is  as  elastic  as  the  Czar's 
decrees." 

"But,  Rivka,  you  have  never  given  me  even  the 
smallest  hope  !  Oh,  if  you  had  but  deceived  me  !  I 
could  have  lived  on  the  joy  of  that  deception  just  for 
an  hour ! " 


THE  ANAECHIST  161 

"  I  shall  never  deceive  you,  Yankev,  you  were  al 
ways  too  good  to  me.  If  it  weren't  for  you  I  should 
be  in  prison  still ;  all  I  have  I  owe  to  you,  I  could  not 
deceive  you.  You  are  my  little " 

"Stop  that,  Eivka!  if  you  call  me  your  sheep 
again,  I  shall  show  my  teeth  and  be  a  wolf,  and  tear 
and  kiU." 

"  Oh,  Yankev,  you  tear  and  kill  ?  Well  !  Well ! 
you  have  never  hurt  anybody  I  loved." 

"  I  know  I  haven't.  I  could  have  sent  Alexis  to 
prison  a  dozen  times,  and  I  was  often  at  the  point  of 
betraying  him  to  the  police ;  but  then  your  face  came 
between  me  and  him,  and  I  did  not  do  it.  Yes, 
Eivka,  I  am  a  sheep,  a  stupid  sheep." 

"  No,  not  a  stupid  sheep,  Yankev,  you  are  a  good 
faithful  fellow,  you  are  a  splendid  boy,  but  you  get 
on  my  nerves  so  with  your  Zionism ;  it's  a  passion 
with  you  which  I  do  not  approve.  I  am  jealous  of 
Zion." 

"Jealous,  Eivka,  you  are  jealous?  Oh!  how 
happy  I  am  !  " 

"  Jealous  of  Zion,"  she  continued,  "for  the  sake  of 
Eussia.  You  can't  understand  me,  Yankev,  you 
never  will.  I  am  a  woman,  it  is  true,  and  I  love 
some  men,  but  then  I  cease  to  love  them,  while  my 
great  passion,  my  lasting  passion,  is  for  Eussia." 

11  No,  Eivka,  I  can't  understand  you,  and  you  can't 
understand  me.  I  am  a  man,  I  love  one  woman  all 
the  time,  all  the  time,  yet  my  great  passion  still  i$ 


162  THE  MEDIATOR 

Zion.  It's  born  into  me  to  love  you ;  I  loved  you  as 
a  boy  when  we  went  to  school ;  don't  you  remember 
that  I  made  love  to  you  when  I  was  nine  years  old 
and  you  were  seven  I  When  I  was  nineteen  and  you 
were  seventeen,  I  loved  you  still.  Now,  Eivka,  we 
both  have  suffered  deeply  and  have  grown  old  be 
fore  we  were  young ;  we  have  seen  bloodshed  and 
murder,  have  smelled  the  dampness  of  the  prison, 
and  have  wandered  together  through  days  and  nights ; 
you  have  loved  others,  and  were  betrayed  by 
others,  yet  I  love  you  still,  because  I  cannot  help 
loving  you ;  it's  born  into  me  as  is  my  love  for  Zion. 

"  Eivka,  I  feel  the  fire  of  Zion's  hills  in  my  veins  ; 
I  have  never  seen  the  Jordan,  but  it  called  me  to  its 
shores  while  I  was  yet  a  boy.  I  have  thought  that  if 
the  clouds  of  Mount  Sinai  could  cover  me,  I  should 
see  Jehovah  face  to  face,  as  did  Moses.  I  have  wan 
dered  in  my  dreams  through  Zion's  vineyards  and 
olive-groves." 

"  Yankev,  you  are  a  dreamer,  and  if  I  should  give 
you  myself,  oh  !  all  there  is  left  of  me,  you  would 
find  that  I  am  but  flesh  and  bone,  now  more  bone 
than  flesh ;  and  if  to-morrow  you  could  get  all  there 
is  of  Zion,  from  Jaffa  to  Damascus,  and  from  the 
Mediterranean  to  beyond  the  Jordan,  you  would  find 
aland  of  sticks  and  stones,  now  more  stones  than 
sticks. 

"Yankev,  you  ought  to  know  that  I  am  a  delusion 
to  men.  Look  at  me  now,  with  these  scant  clothes, 


THE  ANARCHIST  163 

scarcely  enough  to  cover  me,  with  my  face  unwashed 
and  unpowdered,  with  the  prison-air  still  eating  at 
my  lungs ;  I  am  nothing  for  a  man.  Neither  is  Zion ; 
she  too  was  in  prison  and  is  showing  her  nakedness, 
she  too  has  the  consumption,  and  we  are  both  a  de 
lusion,  Yankev.  But  Eussia  is  great  and  young  and 
beautiful,  and  worth  the  loving  and  the  saving." 

"Eivka,  there  is  no  greater  delusion  than  Eussia. 
She  too  was  in  prison,  and  still  is.  She  is  not  naked, 
but  her  clothing  is  foul  and  soiled  ;  she  is  dying  of 
fever,  and  neither  your  life  nor  the  thousands  of 
Jewish  lives  offered  upon  the  altar  of  freedom  will 
save  her.  She  is  just  big,  big  and  sick,  and  a  de 
lusion. 

"But  Eivka,  let's  forget  Eussia  and  Zion,  let  us 
remember  each  other.  We  need  one  another  more 
than  Eussia  needs  you  or  Zion  needs  me.  Eivka, 
love  me,  love  me  ! " 

"  Yankev,  you  may  prove  traitor  to  Zion  for  the 
sake  of  a  woman,  but  I  shall  remain  loyal  to  Eussia. 
I  have  told  you  that  a  thousand  times ;  let's  not  talk 
about  it.  Let's  turn  from  patriotism  and  love  to 
cabbage  and  tea.  I  can  smell  both  of  them  down 
stairs.  If  you  don't  hurry;  the  sheep  will  have  eaten 
it  all.  Go  and  bring  some  for  me,  and  I  too  will  be 
a  sheep,  and  eat  with  you  of  the  green  leaves  of  the 
Fatherland.  Do  sheep  eat  cabbage,  Yankev?" 

Disgustedly,  Yankev  went  down-stairs,  while 
around  Eivka  the  crowd,  having  eaten  its  fill,  began 


164  THE  MEDIATOR 

to  surge  as  it  watched  the  deck  hands  trying  to  lift  the 
trunks  from  the  hold,  ready  for  the  landing,  which 
was  expected  to  occur  in  the  morning. 

****** 

Samuel  had  watched  the  scene  below  him  with  in 
tense  interest,  and  had  interpreted  to  his  friends  all 
that  he  could  understand.  Then  the  luncheon  signal 
sounded  upon  the  deck,  and,  realizing  that  it  was 
time  for  him  to  go,  he  made  his  adieux. 

Mr.  Bruce  took  his  hand  in  his  and  shook  it  vigor 
ously,  saying:  "If  you  need  friends  in  America, 
just  call  on  A.  B.  and  you'll  find  him  O.  K.,  and  if 
you  get  out  of  cash,  just  come  C.  O.  D.  and  you'll 
be  welcome,  won't  he,  Jane?  " 

"Yes,  indeed,  Mr.  Gregory,  you  will  always  be 
welcome  in  our  home,  and  I  want  you  to  know,  if 
we  never  meet  again,  that  you  have  been  an  in 
terpreter  to  me,  not  only  of  a  language,  but  of  life. 
Those  people  whose  speech  you  have  translated  to 
me  are  never  going  to  be  just  strangers.  They  will 
have  friends  on  the  other  shore.  Good-bye !  Tell 
them,  will  you  tell  them,  that  they  will  have  friends 
on  the  other  shore  ?  Tell  that  woman  down  there, 
that  poor  burned  woman,  that  I  am  her  friend  ;  good 
bye,  good-bye!  Auf wiedersehn." 


XV 
THE  LAND  OF  FRIENDS 

ATTENTION,  Polaks!  At-ten-tion,  I  say! 
Eight-about-face  ! "  Pavel  was  trying  to 
line  up  his  former  fellow-townsmen  and 
future  source  of  revenue  that  he  might  deliver  to 
them  iu  an  impressive  manner  the  last  instructions 
before  landing.  He  had  drawn  heavily  upon  past 
and  future  profits,  for  he  was  in  front  of  the  bar  from 
the  time  he  set  foot  on  the  ship  until  the  pilot  came 
on  board.  Then,  with  remarkable  fortitude,  he 
stopped  drinking,  when  the  bar  was  closed  for  the 
remainder  of  the  journey. 

His  hoarseness  and  his  efforts  to  be  impressive 
made  him  both  ridiculous  and  repellent ;  while  his 
face  grew  red  from  his  exertions  as  he  swore  in  two 
languages,  chiefly  in  English;  and  a  mixture  of 
Polish  and  English  oaths  is  a  very  lurid  combination. 

"Attention,  I  say!"  He  strutted  up  and  down 
before  the  very  crooked  line  which  his  efforts  had 
created,  assuming  as  far  as  possible  an  air  of  au 
thority  and  superiority,  and  throwing  back  his  coat 
to  display  his  celluloid  shirt-front  and  the  pseudo 
diamond  in  its  centre.  "  If  you  Polaks  think  Uncle 
Sam  is  going  to  send  a  brass  band  to  meet  you  at 
Ellis  Island,  and  that  the  priests  are  going  to  cele- 

165 


166  THE  MEDIATOE 

brate  a  jubilee  mass  in  honour  of  your  coming, 
you're  mightily  mistaken.  When  you  land,  a  doc 
tor  is  going  to  take  you  by  the  neck,  this  way," 
and  Pavel's  heavy  fist  came  down  upon  the  neck 
of  the  unsuspecting  fellow  who  stood  nearest 
him.  "And  he  is  going  to  say:  'Show  your 
tongue,'  tongue,  remember,  tongue — and  you  stick 
out  your  tongue  at  him,  with  respect,  remember,  not 
in  any  saucy  way  or  else  he'll  cut  that  tongue  off— 
ch-l-k — -just  that  way  !  "  and  his  hand  moved  in  the 
same  uncomfortable  manner  over  the  throat  of  the 
same  youth.  "Then  another  man  will  look  into 
your  eyes  to  see  if  you  are  a  sleepy  head  or  not ; 
they  haven't  any  use  for  sleepy  heads  in  America; 
so  wash  your  eyes  nice  and  clean  in  the  morning  as 
you  haven't  never  washed  them  before.  Then  an 
other  man  will  ask  you  :  '  How  much  money  ? ' 
and  you  say,  ( Thirty  dollars' — thirty  dollars,  re 
member,  and  say  it's  all  yours ;  if  you  tell  him  it 
ain't  yours  they'll  lock  you  up.  Then  six  old  men 
are  going  to  examine  you  all  over  again,  and  those 
same  six  men  are  going  to  send  you  to  the  head  man, 
a  terrible  fierce  man  ;  he's  got  sharp  gray  eyes  and 
he'll  look  right  into  you,  through  and  through,  and 
then  he'll  say,  l  Cut  off  his  head,'  and  ch-l-k,  off 
goes  your  head  !  "  He  moved  the  edge  of  his  palm 
over  Samuel's  neck,  and  he  turned  away  in  disgust. 
"When  you  are  let  go,  I'll  take  care  of  you  all 
right,  and  you'll  stay  at  my  house  in  Coalville,  and 


THE  LAND  OF  FKIENDS  167 

you  can  drink  all  the  whiskey  you  want.  Whiskey 
in  America  ain't  your  white,  watery  vodka ;  it's  red 
like  fire,  and,  when  you  swallow  it,  it  burns  as  if  you 
had  swallowed  a  tartar  alive. 

"  Now  I  want  to  teach  you  four  English  words  ;  if 
you  learn  them,  you'll  get  along  fine  from  the  time 
you  land  in  America  till  you  leave  for  Poland,  a  mil 
lionaire,  as  I  did — 'Hurry  up'  and  'Step  lively  ! ' 
When  you  hear  a  man  say,  '  Hurry  up  ! '  then  dig  as 
if  you  were  digging  your  way  out  of  the  grave  ;  and 
when  a  man  says  to  you  '  step  lively  ! '  then  run  as 
if  you  were  running  away  from  the  tax-collector. 
Now,  listen!  Step  lively!  Step  lively,  I  say!" 
and  they  stood  immovable,  like  so  many  stones.  Not 
until,  with  many  oaths,  Pavel  had  translated  his 
English  phrase,  did  they  "  step  lively,"  as  he  directed 
them. 

Then  they  all  ran  except  Samuel,  who  had  stood 
aloof  since  the  first  part  of  Pavel's  instructions,  and 
who  had  long  felt  that  their  ways  must  part  as  soon 
as  they  landed. 

"  Pavel,  I  can't  go  with  you  to  Coalville,"  he  said 
after  some  hesitation  ;  "  but  I  want  to  thank  you  now 
for  urging  me  to  come  ;  I  am  glad  I  have  come." 

"  Not  come  with  Suszka  and  Anka  ?  "  Pavel  em 
phasized  the  last  name  especially. 

"No,  Pavel,  I  must  stay  in  New  York  and  look 
for  my  father." 

"Look  for  your  father?    Do  you  think,  even  if 


168  THE  MEDIATOR 

you  found  him,  he  would  have  anything  to  do  with 
you,  a  monk?" 

"  But  Pavel,  I  am  no  more  a  monk  ;  I  am  going 
back  to  my  father,  a  Jew,  a  Jew,  Pavel." 

Suszka,  who  had  joined  them,  had  caught  the  last 
sentence  of  their  conversation,  and  cried:  "My 
boy,  my  golden  boy,  don't  leave  us  ! "  She  pressed 
him  close  to  her  as  she  whispered  into  his  ear, 
"  Schma  Jsrael !  What  would  I  do  without  you  f  " 

In  a  moment  she  had  brought  before  him  the  past, 
with  all  its  tender,  motherly  love,  and  as  he  drew 
close  to  her  he  felt  the  strong  ties  which  held  him  to 
this  woman,  who  loved  him  more  than  she  loved  her 
own  child. 

"Suszka,  I  cannot  go  with  you,  for  I  must  find 
my  father ;  anyway  I  could  not  live  with  you  and 
Pavel,  because  I  am  a  Jew." 

"Samuel,  my  dear  boy,"  she  whispered  to  him, 
11 1  am  half  a  Jewess,  anyway  ;  I  like  kosher  meat, 
and  I'll  cook  it  for  you  just  right,  and  I  can  say  your 
Jewish  prayers  as  well  as  I  can  my  own.  Come  with 
us,  and  you  and  Anka  will  make  up.  She  doesn't 
mind  your  being  a  Jew." 

Anka  was  then  engaged  in  peeling  an  orange, 
given  to  her  by  one  of  the  ship's  crew,  and  throwing 
the  peeling  at  the  busy  sailors. 

Suszka  continued:  "Pavel  doesn't  mind  what 
you  are.  He  is  half  a  heathen  himself ;  he  eats  meat 
on  Friday,  and  he  didn't  darken  the  door  of  a  church 


THE  LAND  OF  FRIENDS  169 

all  the  time  he  was  home.  You  don't  mind,  do  you, 
Pavel?" 

"No,  of  course  not,"  Pavel  said  emphatically, 
"in  America  everybody  is  alike,  Catholics  and  Jews 
and  Protestants.  I  went  to  church  about  three 
years  ago  and  I  heard  a  Dominican,  Father  An- 
tonius,  preach  about  the  Jews.  He  said  the  Jews 
were  the  chosen  people  of  God  and  we  ought  to  love 
'em.  Yes,  we  love  the  Jews  at  Coalville,  but,  fortu 
nately,  there  ain't  one  within  fifty  miles  of  the  camp." 

" Father  Antonius,  a  Dominican?"  Samuel  asked 
almost  breathlessly. 

"Yes,"  Pavel  replied;  "just  the  same  kind  as 
they  have  in  Trnava ;  all  white  clothes,  as  if  they 
were  millers,  but  all  they  ever  grind  out  is  souls  out 
of  purgatory  and  pater  nosters  and  the  like.  Father 
Antonius  is  a  great  preacher,  he  can  make  you  feel 
as  if  your  soul  was  sizzling  in  hell-fire.  I  never  went 
to  hear  him  again,  because  he  preached  against 
drink,  and  that  hurts  my  business.  I  pay,  you  bet  I 
pay,  but  I  don't  go  to  church,  don't  have  to  in 
America  ;  it's  a  free  country." 

' '  Father  Antonius ! ' '  Samuel  whispered  the  name 
and  fondled  it  upon  his  lips.  His  best  friend  and 
his  greatest  enemy,  the  man  who  lured  him  from  the 
Talmud  to  the  cloister ;  from  Moses  to  Jesus.  No, 
he  must  not  come  near  him  again,  and  yet  his  heart 
was  drawn  to  him,  even  as  it  held  him  fast  to  Suszka 
who  clung  to  him. 


170  THE  MEDIATOR 

"Suszka,"  he  whispered  to  her  ;  "  if  all  goes  well 
with  me,  I'll  come  to  you,  and  if  it  does  not  go  well 
with  you,  you'll  come  to  me  ;  but  I  must  leave  you 
in  New  York.  I  must  leave  you." 

"  Suszka,  let  that  boy  go  !"  Pavel  said  it  com- 
mandingly.  "If  he  wants  to  stay  in  New  York  let 
him  stay.  I  don't  think  he  could  do  much  at  dig 
ging  coal,  and  he  wouldn't  be  no  good  at  tending  my 
bar,  for  he  don't  drink  nothing  himself." 

Suszka  still  clung  to  her  boy.  "I  can't  let  you 
go,  you  must  come  with  us,"  she  said  insistently, 
while  copious  tears  flowed  over  her  cheeks. 

"Now,  Suszka,"  Pavel  said  brusquely,  "I  am 
going  to  teach  you  another  piece  of  American  lan 
guage — l  Mind  your  own  business ! '  Now  listen, 
Suszka,  and  stop  blubbering.  '  Mind  your  own  busi 
ness  ! '  The  people  in  America  who  mind  their  own 
business  are  the  people  who  get  rich  quick.  They 
don't  go  around  hanging  on  the  necks  of  men  or 
women  they  can't  make  money  out  of — so,  Suszka, 
you  *  mind  your  own  business  ! '  Go  down  and  pack 
the  baggage." 

It  had  grown  quiet  all  around  them ;  for  most  of 
the  passengers  were  down-stairs,  "minding  their 
own  business."  The  sailors,  too,  were  "minding 
their  own  business,"  scarcely  looking  at  the  girls 
who  had  helped  them  to  beguile  the  long  journey. 
The  groups  of  kindred  spirits  which  had  once  gath 
ered  were  now  scattered,  already  strangers  one  to 


THE  LAND  OF  FKIENDS  171 

another.  The  journey  was  practically  ended,  and 
everybody  was  "  minding  his  own  business." 

It  had  grown  dark.  The  stars  were  shining  and 
becoming  more  lustrous  every  moment. 

Suszka  felt  the  power  of  this  parting  hour,  and  she 
whispered  into  Samuel's  ear,  the  first  of  the  three 
sentences  of  his  evening  prayer,  which  night  after 
night  in  the  long  ago  they  had  repeated  together  just 
before  she  tucked  him  into  bed.  Three  times  those 
sentences  had  to  be  repeated,  and  although  she  often 
had  turned  two  pages  at  once  of  the  rest  of  the 
prayer,  so  long  for  his  sleepy  eyes,  never  did  he 
omit  these  words  : 

"  Behold  the  guardian  of  Israel  neither  slumbereth 
nor  sleepeth  !  "  Suszka  said,  in  her  peculiar  Hebrew, 
which  she  could  not  pronounce  or  understand  any 
better  than  her  Latin  prayers. 

Samuel  said  it  after  her  three  times. 

"  For  Thy  salvation  do  I  hope,  O  Eternal ;  I  hope, 
O  Eternal,  for  Thy  salvation!"  Again  he  said  it 
three  times. 

Then  she  repeated  the  closing  sentences,  slowly  as 
of  yore,  when  his  eyes  had  been  almost  closed  in 
sleep,  in  that  far  away  and  long  ago. 

"  On  my  right  hand  is  Michael  and  on  my  left  is 
Gabriel,  before  me  is  Ariel,  behind  me  is  Raphael ; 
while  over  my  head  is  the  Divine  presence.  Amen, 
Amen!" 

"Now,  step  lively,  Suszka!"  Pavel  commanded, 


172  THE  MEDIATOE 

his  voice  sounding  harsh  and  impatient;  and  she 
stepped  as  lively  as  her  heavy  heart  would  let  her. 

The  night  was  a  restless  one  for  the  ship's  crew  and 
for  the  ship's  passengers.  All  through  the  long 
hours  the  hoisting  machinery  kept  up  its  incessant 
rattle,  which,  in  addition  to  the  fears  and  anticipa 
tions  now  reawakened  in  each  steerage  passenger's 
breast,  made  sleep  of  short  duration,  or  entirely  im 
possible. 

All  the  things  which  a  sea-journey  compels  one  to 
forget  come  back  with  renewed  force  when  the  intoxi 
cating  tonic  in  the  air  grows  weaker,  and  when  the 
waves  have  ceased  their  wild  beating  against  the 
ship. 

Long  before  the  gray  of  morning  touched  the  sky, 
Samuel  twas  walking  up  and  down  the  deck,  busy 
with  memories  of  his  unhappy  life,  which  had  been 
buried  in  his  care  for  others.  The  past  and  the 
future,  which  had  been  alike  dark,  now  held  one 
very  bright  spot,  so  luminous  that  it  promised  to 
blot  out  the  darkness.  He  looked  constantly  at  the 
deserted  upper  deck,  and  his  imagination  ran  its 
sweet  riot,  as  it  busied  itself  with  her  who  had  re 
vealed  to  him  what  seemed  like  a  new  species  of  hu 
manity,  and  who,  by  her  proffer  of  friendship,  had 
cast  such  a  glow  upon  the  uncertain  future. 

Samuel  realized  also  how  selfish  he  had  grown  ;  he 
had  not  revisited  the  hospital,  he  had  paid  little  at 
tention  to  Suszka,  and  none  to  her  daughter,  and  he 


THE  LAND  OF  FEIENDS  173 

had  not  yet  delivered  Miss  Brace's  message  to  Eivka 
the  revolutionist,  whose  burned  hands  and  face  had  so 
appealed  to  her  sympathy. 

Still  clinging  to  memories  of  the  hours  he  had 
spent  in  Miss  Bruce' s  company,  as  a  miser  might 
cling  to  his  treasure,  he  reached  the  prow  of  the  boat 
and  watched,  as  it  cut  its  way  with  diminished  power 
through  the  water,  whose  colour  had  grown  gentler 
than  that  of  the  deep  sea. 

In  the  distance  he  could  see  the  far-shooting  rays 
from  a  lighthouse  ;  other  lights  began  to  glow  here 
and  there,  darting  about,  and  then  slowly  disappear 
ing  in  the  gray  of  morning.  Suddenly  a  gentle 
tremour  ran  through  the  ship,  the  rattling  of  the 
anchor  chain  was  heard  above  the  voice  of  command 
which  came  from  the  bridge,  water  began  to  rush  and 
then  to  trickle  from  the  valves,  where  it  had  done  its 
work,  and  was  now  returning  to  the  sea  ;  the  journey 
was  over  and  the  ship  stood  still,  like  a  runner  who 
has  reached  his  goal  in  full  breath,  glad  to  have  run 
the  race.  Slowly,  majestically,  day  dawned,  the 
gray  sky  grew  radiant  from  a  brightness  which  crept 
out  of  the  east  and  then  leaped  from  all  corners  of  the 
heavens. 

Samuel  heard  a  groan,  and  right  before  him  where 
he  might  have  stepped  on  her,  lay  a  woman  with  her 
head  resting  upon  a  coil  of  ropes.  She  lifted  herself 
slowly,  and  he  saw  flashing  black  eyes,  like  live 
coals  glowing  from  out  a  pile  of  ashes.  He  immedi- 


174  THE  MEDIATOE 

ately  recognized  Eivka,  whose  sad  story  he  had  so 
easily  guessed  from  her  debate  with  the  Zionists  and 
her  conversation  with  Yankev. 

As  she  lifted  herself  from  her  cramped  position, 
the  angular  outlines  of  her  body  visible  through  her 
scant  clothing,  she  tried  to  shake  from  her  the  chill 
of  the  night  by  violently  swinging  her  arms  across 
her  breast. 

"Take  my  coat,"  Samuel  said,  and  he  covered  her 
with  it  without  waiting  for  a  reply. 

"I  haven't  made  my  toilet,"  she  jocularly  an 
swered.  "My  maid  is  rather  slow  this  morning." 
Then  she  looked  at  her  bedraggled  gingham  skirt  and 
the  short  worn-out  jacket  and  laughed,  as  if  she  were 
mocking  herself. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  young  man,"  she  continued, 
"  I  left  my  wardrobe  in  Eussia  ;  I  didn't  have  time  to 
pack,"  and  again  she  laughed. 

Samuel  told  her  that  he  knew  her  plight. 

"Yes,  I  was  in  a  big  hurry  to  get  away,"  she 
added,  growing  sober  and  sad;  "but  now  I  don't 
know  just  why  I  was  anxious  to  escape.  Freedom  is 
so  beautiful  when  you  don't  have  it,  and  when  you 
have  it, — well,  I  don't  know  whether  under  the 
present  social  order  there  is  freedom  anywhere.  To 
morrow,  no,  to-day,  we  are  to  land.  Terrible  !  Ter 
rible!" 

"  Why  is  it  so  terrible  to  you  ?  "  Samuel  asked. 

"  Ah  !  this  is  a  terrible  country  over  here." 


THE  LAND  OF  FRIENDS  175 

"America  is  terrible?"  Samuel  echoed,  shocked 
by  her  denunciation.  "  Is  it  not  a  free  country  T  " 

Rivka's  answer  was  a  torrent  of  words. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  free  country  for  the  strong  and  the 
rich,  but  it  is  a  great  prison  for  the  weak  and  the 
poor.  It  is  ruled  by  an  autocrat,  with  even  less  feel 
ing  for  humanity  than  the  Czar ;  it  is  ruled  by  the 
Dollar.  I  have  been  told  that  the  first  thing  they'll 
ask  before  we  land,  is  :  *  Are  you  strong  f '  and  the 
second  question  is  :  '  Have  you  dollars  ! '  If  I  do 
not  show  them  muscle  and  dollars,  they  will  not  let 
me  in,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  have  suffered  for  a 
country's  freedom.  I  suppose  if  they  knew  what  you 
know,  they  would  not  let  me  in  even  if  I  could  show 
the  dollars. 

* '  I  used  to  love  America.  My  love  of  my  own  coun 
try  was  awakened  by  reading  about  that  great  man, 
George  Washington,  and  I  became  a  revolutionist 
when  I  read  how  one  great  personality  could  work 
the  freedom  of  a  whole  race.  I  went  among  the 
peasants  to  lift  them  and  free  them,  because  I  read 
that  Abraham  Lincoln  freed  the  slaves.  In  Siberia, 
in  our  penal  settlement,  we  had  as  our  only  wall- 
decoration  the  pictures  of  two  men,  George  Washing 
ton  and  Abraham  Lincoln  ;  but  we  have  been  told 
that  their  spirit  is  dead  in  America,  that  the  Statue 
of  Liberty  has  been  overthrown,  that  the  millionaires 
rule  the  country,  and  so  we  turned  the  faces  of  those 
great  men  to  the  wall." 


176  THE  MEDIATOR 

Samuel  listened  with  a  disturbed  mind  to  her 
loudly  and  quickly  spoken  words,  to  which  she  gave 
him  no  chance  to  reply. 

"  To-day  I  shall  be  in  the  land  of  muscle  and  of 
dollars,  with  sore  hands  and  without  a  kopek  in  my 
pocket,  a  stranger  among  strangers  !  " 

Samuel  looked  at  her  in  great  pity  as  she  stood  be 
fore  him ;  so  unattractive,  so  at  variance  with  the 
beauty  which  slowly  revealed  itself  before  his  bewil 
dered  eyes. 

The  mist  which  had  rested  upon  the  water  was 
lifted  by  a  gentle  wind,  and  land  was  visible — glori 
ous,  beautiful  land !  Towns  nestling  in  the  hill 
sides,  luxurious  homes,  with  far-stretching  lawns, 
farm  land  cultivated  to  the  edge  of  the  seaside.  The 
ship  moved  again,  slowly  through  the  channel 
marked  out  for  it,  and  in  the  distance  was  a  gigantic 
city  whose  great  buildings,  like  mountain-peaks, 
touched  the  skies.  Far  away,  far  as  the  eye  could 
see,  masts  and  funnels  edged  the  seemingly  endless 
harbour ;  a  bridge  hung  in  the  sky,  as  if  spun  by 
spiders,  so  graceful  did  it  look  and  so  delicately  was 
it  woven;  tugs  passed  by,  snorting  and  puffing, 
pulling  behind  them  heavy-laden  barges,  and  quickly, 
almost  like  lightning,  splendidly-equipped  yachts 
moved  to  the  sea  with  outstretched  white  sails,  like 
giant  birds. 

Samuel  in  his  ecstasy  caught  one  of  Eivka's  burned 
hands  and  drew  her  nearer  the  edge  of  the  boat,  say- 


THE  LAND  OF  FRIENDS  177 

ing:  "Eivka,  you  are  going  to  a  strange  country, 
but  not  among  strangers.  You  are  going  over  with 
friends ;  I  am  your  friend,  and  yonder,  look !  Do 
you  see  that  woman  in  the  gray  dress,  that  beautiful 
woman  who  looks  like  a  saint?  Can't  you  see  her 
eyes?  Oh,  look  at  her!  See,  she  is  waving  her 
parasol  at  us !  She  said  to  me,  *  Tell  that  poor  girl 
that  I  am  her  friend.'  Listen,  Eivka ! "  his  eyes 
rested  upon  the  woman  on  the  upper  deck  and  then 
swept  the  matchless  harbour.  "  Listen,  Eivka  !  I, 
too,  am  coming  out  of  prison ;  fourteen  years  I  was 
there,  although  I  did  not  know  always  that  it  was  a 
prison.  I,  too,  struggled  for  freedom,  although  it 
was  only  my  own  freedom  I  fought  for.  Listen, 
Eivka !  "  he  whispered  to  her ;  "I,  too,  have  killed 
a  man,  to  protect  poor  defenseless  men  and  women. 
Now,  Eivka,  look,  how  broad  the  harbour  is,  how 
wide  the  gateway  into  this  new  country.  Over  a 
thousand  of  us  are  coming,  and  see  how  hospitable 
America  is  towards  us.  Let's  not  hate  it,  let's  love 
it !  don't  condemn  it  till  you  know  it.  Look,  look, 
Eivka  !  How  beautiful  it  is  ;  look  at  the  sky,  how 
blue  it  is ; — look  at  that  land  over  there,  those  vil 
lages,  those  farms,  look  at  that  great  city  !  Oh,  look 
at  this  harbour,  isn't  it  wonderful?  And,  see,  the 
Goddess  of  Liberty  !  She  still  stands  on  her  pedestal, 
her  spirit  alone  could  have  wrought  the  things  our 
eyes  see — she  still  rules  here,  the  air  feels  like  the  air 
of  a  free  country  !  Doesn't  it  make  your  blood 


178  THE  MEDIATOB 

tingle  ?  Breathe  it  in,  feel  it !  Ah,  how  good  this 
free  air  feels  !  Oh,  Eivka,  we  both  have  been  sinned 
against,  and  we  both  have  sinned.  Let  us  forget  our 
past ;  let  us  forget  the  Czar  and  the  dark  dungeons 
of  prison  and  cloister,  let  us  begin  a  new  life  on  these 
new  shores !  See,  how  they  are  waving  those  flags  ! 
Look  at  them  on  the  shore  and  on  the  ships,  every 
where  the  stars  and  stripes  !  Oh,  what  a  flag  it  is, 
without  eagles'  talons  or  the  emblems  of  human 
rulers !  The  stars  and  the  rivers,  which  God  alone 
rules !  God  rules  over  here,  Eivka,  God  rules ! 

"Look  at  the  boats,  crowded  from  stem  to  stern 
by  human  beings !  How  gay  they  all  look  !  Listen ! 
They  are  shouting  at  us,  let  us  shout  back  at  them  ! 
Ai,  ai,  ai,  ai,  ai !  Now  they  are  waving  their  hats ! 
Wave  at  them,  wave  at  them,  Eivka ! " 

She  tore  his  coat  from  her  shoulders  and  swung  it 
out  to  the  breeze,  shouting  :  "Vive  la  Libert^  !  Vive 
la  Democratic !  Vives  les  peuples  !  " 

"Oh,  look  !"  Samuel  cried,  overcome  by  the  joy 
of  it.  "  Look,  how  our  new  friends  are  welcoming  us 
to  America!" 


XVI 
A  JEWISH  PHARAOH 

A  BANG,  a  thud,  and  a  whack  of  the  hot  iron 
against  a  heavy  coatsleeve  not  easily  pressed 
into  shape;   then  the  iron  rattled  against 
the  stove  and  another  one  came  down  with  the  same 
bang,  and  thud  and  whack,  against  another  part  of 
the  coat's  anatomy. 

The  three  men  who  stood  by  the  pressing-benches 
were  stripped  to  their  waist  of  everything  but  an 
undervest ;  yet  the  perspiration  rolled  down  their 
cheeks  and  fell  into  the  hollows  of  their  chests. 

The  work,  which  was  monotonously  alike  from 
morning  until  night,  was  performed  painfully  and  in 
complete  silence.  If  conversation  was  attempted,  it 
was  drowned  by  the  rhythmic  thud  and  bang  of  the 
irons,  and  the  more  constant,  if  not  more  melodious, 
whir  of  the  sewing  machines.  Over  these,  some  half- 
dozen  women  bent,  picking  up  their  work  and  drop 
ping  it  mechanically ;  although  evidently  they 
worked  in  less  discomfort  than  the  men.  The  shop 
was  dingy,  flanked  on  one  side  by  the  office,  which 
was  partitioned  off  from  it,  and  in  which  the  "  Boss," 
Mr.  Eosenfelt,  kept  his  strong  box  and  his  account 
books.  On  the  other  side  of  the  room  were  two  win- 

179 


180  THE  MEDIATOR 

dows,  the  lower  panes  pasted  over  with  Yiddish 
newspapers,  for  the  purpose  of  obscuring  the  view 
into  the  open,  which  view  consisted  of  the  rear  of 
tenement  houses,  with  their  entanglement  of  wash- 
lines. 

Mr.  Bosenfelt,  the  "Boss"  of  the  sweatshop, 
boasted  of  an  extended  residence  in  England,  of  a 
command  of  English  which  was  a  mixture  of  Cockney 
and  Yiddish,  in  which  the  Cockney  was  purposely 
made  conspicuous,  and  of  being  able  to  produce  a 
cloak  more  cheaply  than  any  other  u  Manufacturer 
of  First  Class  Ladies'  and  Misses'  Cloaks,"  as  he 
called  himself,  on  the  East  Side.  He  was  born  in 
Lithuania,  where  the  necessity  of  dealing  with  a 
rather  virile  peasantry  had  sharpened  the  wits  and 
dulled  the  morals  of  the  Jews,  who  were  already 
ethically  weakened  through  an  incessant  study  of  the 
Talmud,  with  its  legal  decisions  stretching  through 
hundreds  of  years  of  Jewish  history. 

Mr.  Bosenfelt' s  shop-hands  were  always  "  green 
ers,"  most  pliable  and  exploitable;  and  when  they 
left  him  it  was  generally  in  a  quarrel  which  he 
usually  provoked,  and  which  almost  always  left  him 
the  richer  for  a  few  dollars  of  unpaid  wages. 

It  was  Saturday  evening,  and  the  men  and  women 
were  alike  restless.  Mr.  Bosenfelt  was  also  very 
much  wrought  up,  for  he  detected  signs  of  mutiny 
among  his  thus-far  patient  crew.  The  most  aggra 
vating  thing  which  had  happened  to  him  that  day 


A  JEWISH  PHAEAOH  181 

was  that  Bill,  his  janitor,  pack -carrier  and  general 
utility  man,  an  habitual  drunkard,  had  come  to  the 
shop  that  morning  perfectly  sober.  During  the  af 
ternoon  he  confided  to  Mr.  Eosenfelt  that  he  had 
"  got  religion"  at  the  Salvation  Army,  and  that  his 
wages  from  now  on  were  to  be  paid  altogether  in 
cash,  and  not  in  lodging,  food  and  doses  of  cheap 
whiskey,  by  which  he  was  kept  just  between  so 
briety  and  drunkenness.  As  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
doing  his  heavy  work  without  regard  to  hours  of 
labour  or  scale  of  wages,  this  ' '  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence"  came  to  Mr.  Eosenfelt  like  a  thunderbolt 
from  a  clear  sky.  He  had  sent  Bill  away  on  an 
errand  as  soon  as  he  could,  that  his  mutinous  spirit 
might  not  affect  the  rest  of  the  force.  Bill,  however, 
was  swifter  afoot  than  usual,  having  no  alcoholic 
haze  to  wade  through,  and,  as  he  climbed  up  the 
stairs,  every  one  in  the  shop  paused  for  a  moment, 
almost  simultaneously,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  Mr. 
Eosenfelt  ;'for  Bill,  or  u  His  Majesty  Wilhelm  the  II," 
as  he  was  called,  came  up  the  stairs  singing  loudly. 
As  he  staggered  into  the  room  beneath  the  burden  of 
a  huge  bundle  of  cloth,  he  continued  his  song  : 

"  I  am  washed,  I  am  washed, 
I  am  washed  in  the  blood  of  the  lamb." 

"What's  that!"  called  out  one  of  the  pressers; 
11  you're  washed  ?  Was  you  at  the  police  station  or 
in  the  hospital  I " 


182  THE  MEDIATOR 

"  No,  he  fell  into  the  river,  that's  the  only  time  he 
gets  washed,"  some  one  else  remarked  facetiously  ; 
but,  undismayed,  Bill  unpacked  the  cloth  and  sang 
more  loudly  than  before  : 

"  Of  the  la-amb,  I  am  washed 
In  the  blood  of  the  1-a-a-m-b." 

"Oh!  Mr.  Samuel,  I  am  so  happy!"  and  he 
looked  up  to  the  sympathetic  Samuel,  who  was  one 
of  the  pressers,  and  to  whom,  as  to  the  rest  of  them, 
this  interruption  offered  a  period  of  relief.  "  I  am 
so  happy,  Mr.  Samuel,  I've  got  religion,  and  I've 
joined  the  Salvation  Army." 

"Ven  you  don't  shtop  beink  appy  und  begins 
your  yob  uf  sweepink,  you'll  be  fired,  und  can  join 
der  harmy  uf  der  hunemployed,  Bill." 

This  was  said  in  a  nervous,  jerky  sort  of  way  by 
Mr.  Rosenfelt,  whose  tongue  continued  to  move  after 
he  finished  speaking  ;  for  his  easily-roused  anger  cut 
off  his  power  of  speech,  while  it  did  not  stop  the 
motion  of  his  tongue. 

Bill  picked  up  his  broom  and  began  to  sweep  in 
dustriously,  and  Mr.  Eosenfelt's  tongue  found  words 
again. 

"Yoost  my  luck  !  I  picks  im  hout  uf  der  gutter 
fen  e  ad  notink,  und  hevery  day  I  vas  afraid  e'd  get 
der  tremens,  und  now  e  goes  und  gets  religion ! 
Yoost  my  luck!"  and  his  tongue  moved  excitedly 
back  and  forth. 


A  JEWISH  PHARAOH  183 

Busily  Bill  swept,  after  the  wrath  of  the  " Boss" 
had  spent  itself  and  his  tongue  had  stopped  wagging ; 
but  all  at  once  the  joy  of  his  new  experience  swept 
over  him.  He  felt  as  a  common  sparrow  might  feel 
when,  after  picking  the  dirt  of  the  gutter  during  the 
winter,  he  suddenly  realizes  the  joy  of  spring  in  the 
air,  and  embellishes  his  monotonous  chirp  with  a 
trill. 

So  Bill  sang,  or  tried  to  sing  :  — 

"  Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross, 
A  follower  of  the  la-a-mb  ?  "  — 

"Bravo,  bravo!"  shouted  the  men,  keeping  time 
with  their  hot  irons  upon  the  cloaks  and  filling  the 
already  heavy  air  with  a  strong  suspicion  of  singed 
cloth.  "  Sing  that  again,  Bill,  that's  fine  ! " 

Mr.  Eosenfelt  was  on  his  feet,  trembling  from  the 
tip  of  his  tongue,  ready  for  the  speech  which  had  not 
yet  come,  down  to  his  foot,  which  he  was  lifting 
ready  to  kick  Bill,  who  was  on  the  floor  sweeping 
the  results  of  his  labour  into  a  dust  pan.  "I  told 
you  vonced  halreaty  dot  you  vas  not  to  sing  hany 
more  your  Christian  stuff  und  nonsense.  Dis  iss  a 
Jewish  sweatshop,  und  ven  you  don't  shtop  right 
avay  already,  hoff  you  goes  back  to  der  Bowery." 

"Listen,  Samuel,  this  is  a  Jewish  sweatshop! 
he  calls  this  a  Jewish  sweatshop,"  Yankev  called 
out  derisively.  "If  it  is,  Mr.  Eosenfelt,  then  you 
are  Pharaoh ;  for  if  ever  there  was  a  slavery  for 


184  THE  MEDIATOE 

Jews,  it's  your  shop.  Let  that  poor  goy  sing;  it 
doesn't  hurt  you.  He  has  got  some  religion  in  the 
Salvation  Army  and  it  makes  him  happy.  When 
the  Jews  get  religion  again,  they  too  will  sing." 

"  Baa !  Baa  ! "  mocked  Eivka,  and  she  threw  aside 
the  heavy  cloak  she  was  stitching,  and  laughed. 
"  Yankev,  l  his  Majesty  Wilhelm  the  II.,'  alias  Bill, 
will  soon  join  the  Zionist  army.  He  sings  about 
lambs  now  ;  later  he  will  sing  about  sheep — Baa ! 
Baa  !  "  and  she  continued  the  whir  of  her  machine, 
which  served  as  an  accompaniment ;  while  she  sang 
in  Eussian  with  her  peculiarly  husky,  melancholy 
voice : 

"  Remember'st  thou  the  day  when  we  — 

Late  was  the  hour — were  forced  to  part  ? 
The  night-gun  boomed  athwart  the  sea  ; 

In  painful  silence  beat  each  heart ; 
The  lovely  day  found  cloudy  close ; 

A  heavy  mist  the  landscape  palled ; 
And  seemed  it,  when  that  shot  arose, 

An  echo  from  the  ocean  called. 

"  Alone  I  wander  by  the  flood ; 

And  when  a  gun  booms  in  its  might, 
I  think  in  pain  how  we  once  stood 

Together  on  that  parting  night. 
And  as  the  mournful  echoes  roll 

Muffled,  along  the  fluid  walls, 
From  out  the  caverns  of  my  soul 

Death  answeringly  calls  and  calls." 

"  I've  done,  Mr.  Eosenfelt ;  this  is  the  last  cloak 
I'll  sew  for  you.  Fertig — basta — finished  ! "  and  she 


A  JEWISH  PHARAOH  185 

threw  the  heavy  cloak  to  the  ground.  "Samuel, 
this  is  a  fine  country,"  she  continued,  "full  of 
friends — behold  our  friend,  Mr.  Eosenfelt !  Why 
don't  you  say  'sometink,'  Mr.  Eosenfelt?  Your 
tongue  has  been  going  without  making  a  sound  for 
fifteen  minutes.  What  a  waste  of  energy !  Your 
mouth  looks  exactly  like  a  sewing  machine  running 
at  full  speed  with  nothing  to  sew. 

"  Don't  be  excited,  Yankev.  Mr.  Eosenfelt 
doesn't  like  the  Salvation  Army  to-day,  because  Bill 
wants  his  wages ;  he  doesn't  like  the  'Zionist  Army 
because  you'll  want  your  wages,  and  he  won't  like 
the  Anarchist  Army  because  I  shall  want  mine.  Mr. 
Eosenfelt,  I  want  my  wages,  all  my  wages,  and  then 
I  quit 

"What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Eosenfelt?"  she  said. 
"Are  you  going  to  have  a  stroke  of  apoplexy! 
Don't  repress  your  feelings  ;  say  'sometink.'  " 

"I — I — say  sometink?  'Ave  I  not  been  say  ink, 
you  ungrateful  set  ?  Yoost  my  luck  1  I  brings  dis 
lot  uf  greeners  from  der  ship,  I  gifs  dem  a  yob  der  next 
day  dot  dey  lands,  dey  learns  fine  Hinglish  hin  my 
shop  und  'ow  to  finish  gloaks,  und  now  dey  'ave  no  re 
spect  for  me ;  yoost  my  luck  !  Bill,  you  carry  hout 
dot  broom  und  shtay  hout.  Eemember,  shut  mit 
yourself  der  door  behint  you  und  shtay  hout.  Go  to 
your  Salvation  Harmy  ;  und  you,  Yankev,  can  like- 
vise  go  to  your  Zionist  Harmy,  fen  you  gets  done  dot 
yob  uf  gloaks,  und  you,  Miss  Eivka,  can  go  to  your 


186  THE  MEDIATOE 

Hanarchist  Harmy.  I  can  gets  a  'ole  lot  uf  greeners 
for  notink  to-morrow.  Dree  tousand  uf  dem  lauded 
yesterday  und  dree  hundred  tousaud  vill  come  dis 
year.  It  stands  bin  der  newspaper ;  Eussian  green 
'orns  by  der  East  Side  vas  going  to  be  so  tick  ass  flies 
haround  der  soda-vater  fountains  vere  dey  geeps  der 
zyrups." 

"  I  will  go  too,  Mr.  Eosenfelt,"  Samuel  said.  He 
had  kept  out  of  the  quarrel,  which  was  simply  part 
of  a  " continuous  performance";  but,  evidently,  in 
this  instance,  the  closing  part,  and  he  was  not  sorry 
for  it.  Six  months  he  had  been  here,  with  Eivka 
and  Yankev,  from  whom  he  had  not  separated  him 
self  since  their  landing.  Six  brutal  months  they  had 
been.  Unused  to  manual  labour,  he  had  to  stand 
twelve  hours  a  day,  lifting  the  hot  iron  and  moving  it 
to  and  fro  with  heavy  pressure.  He  had  grown  thin, 
his  eyes  were  circled  by  dark  shadows,  and  his  spirit 
was  depressed  ;  first,  because  he  could  find  no  trace 
of  his  father,  and  then,  because  the  surroundings  in 
which  he  found  himself,  grew  more  and  more  intol 
erable. 

He  had  secured  lodgings  with  the  barber  of  Kot- 
towin,  the  mentor  of  his  youth,  who  had  lost  every 
thing  that  terrible  night  of  the  pogrom,  and  who 
like  himself  was  hard  at  work  for  small  wages.  The 
barber  scarcely  made  ends  meet,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  his  wife  worked  and  two  of  his  children  worked 
also.  His  youngest  daughter,  Malke,  was  gradually 


A  JEWISH  PHAEAOH  187 

losing  her  sight,  as  the  result  of  a  brutal  blow  re 
ceived  the  same  night,  and  the  care  of  her  had  eaten 
up  all  possible  savings. 

Eivka  and  Yankev  also  roomed  at  the  barber's 
home,  quarrelled  constantly,  and  then  made  up,  but 
kept  the  air  electric  by  their  disputes  and  mutual 
jealousies. 

"I  will  go,  too,  Mr.  Eosenfelt."  That  was  all 
Samuel  said  ;  but  the  iron  he  held  in  his  hand  came 
down  upon  the  cloak  with  a  heavy  thud  and  remained 
there,  for  he  was  wearied  to  the  bone. 

"You  go  too,  Samuel?  No,  you  don't  needs  to, 
you  vas  all  right ;  you  geeps  your  mout  shut  und 
vorks  ;  it's  de  odders  vat  don't  do  notink  but  quar 
rel  about  Zionism  und  Anarchism  und  Socialism  und 
Christianism."  Then  he  stopped  but  his  tongue 
once  set  in  motion  did  not  stop. 

"  I  will  go  too;"  the  other  presser  brought  his 
iron  down  with  a  whack  which  made  Mr.  Eosenfelt 
jump  into  the  air  and  set  his  tongue  which  had  now 
stopped,  into  motion  again. 

"  You  greeners,  you  fools  !  Listen,  you  greeners, 
listen  vat  der  baper  says :  '  Tirty  tousand  Jews 
killed  in  Bresnitza.'  " 

"There  are  not  three  thousand  Jews  in  Bresnitza," 
said  one  of  the  greeners.  "  I  know  well  that  there 
are  not  more  than  fifteen  hundred  Jews  in  that  town, 
for  I  was  one  of  them.  It's  all  one  of  your  Amer 
ican  newspaper  lies." 


188  THE  MEDIATOR 

"  Iss  dis  a  lie  also,  hu  1 "  Mr.  Eosenfelt  said,  when 
his  wagging  tongue  found  utterance  again.  "  l  Honly 
dree  persons  uf  hall  der  Jewish  bopulation  hin  Kot- 
towin  escapes  mit  dere  lifes.'  Hey,  Samuel,  you 
har  a  Kottowiner ;  vas  dere  dree  persons  hin  dat  'oly 
town,  hey  I  Listen,  Samuel :  '  Der  'ole  Jewish  town 
lately  rebuilt  iss  in  hashes  again;  der  'ole  Jewish 
bopulation  gilled  except  dree  persons  ;  der  celebrated 
physician,  Dr.  Rosnik,  his  vife  uud  son.'  " 

No  one  in  the  whole  room  stirred. 

1  i  Fife  veeks  from  now  der  East  Side  iss  going  to 
bulge  out  mit  greeners.  My  galgulation  iss  dot  dree 
hundred  tousand  uf  your  gind  vill  gome  next  year  ; 
vages  vill  go  down  twenty  per  cent,  und  rents  vill  go 
up  fifty  per  cent.  Samuel,  don't  you  dinks  you  bet 
ter  shticks  to  your  yob,  hey  ?  " 

1  i  Mr.  Eosenfelt, ' '  Samuel  said  with  a  tremour  in  his 
voice,  and  unable  to  control  his  emotion,  "  stop  talk 
ing  about  my  job  or  your  job  or  anybody's  job,  when 
Israel  is  being  slain.  You  and  all  of  us  ought  to  be 
on  the  floor  weeping  and  praying  over  the  misfor 
tunes  of  our  people." 

"  I  gots  no  objection  to  your  fallink  on  der  grount 
und  veepink  all  you  vantsto.  Honly  remembers  dot 
you  began  dalking  hat  >alf  past  five  o'clock,  dot  iss 
your  time,  remember  ;  now  you  can  veep  till  six,  und 
ven  you  don't  shtop  veepink  den,  you  can  go  to  der 
zynagogue  and  makes  room  for  new  greeners  vat 
>avu'  t  gots  time  to  veep.  Yoost  my  luck  !  I  takes  in 


A  JEWISH  PHARAOH  189 

a  lot  uf  starved  greeners,  und  now  dey  vants  to  turn 
my  shop  into  an  'ouse  uf  brayer  !  Yoost  my  luck  !  " 
and  his  tongue  wagged  excitedly.  "  Yoost  my  luck  ! 
Yoost  my  luck  1 " 


XVII 
THE  PURSUING  CHRIST 

"  "![  "IT  THAT  next,  Yankev?"  Eivka  asked  of 
%/%/     her  devoted  lover,   who,  in  company 
with  Samuel,  had  reached  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  which  led  from  Mr.  Bosenfeltf  s  sweatshop. 

The  street  was  thronged  by  the  usual  Saturday 
night  crowd ;  a  pushing,  struggling  mass  which  had 
poured  out  of  the  shops,  and,  little  by  little,  would 
lose  itself  in  the  crowded  tenement  houses.  The  air 
was  heavy  from  moisture.  Large  flakes  of  snow  flut 
tered  lazily  down,  and  seemed  to  be  met  half  way  by 
the  slush  and  ooze  of  the  street  upon  which  they  fell, 
with  no  memory  of  their  crystalline  beauty  and  purity. 
The  elevated  railroad  trains  thundered  along,  while, 
beneath  the  tracks,  the  dark  and  the  damp  had 
mingled,  and  hung  over  the  street  like  impenetrable 
fog  over  a  dismal  cave. 

"What  next?  Another  job,  of  course,"  Yankev 
replied. 

"Not  that  kind  for  me,"  Eivka  said.  "Not 
that  kind ;  I  am  done  with  your  sweatshop,  I  am 
done  being  a  slave.  I  want  to  taste  some  of  that 
American  freedom  that  you,  my  dear  Samuel,  said 
was  loose  upon  the  streets.  Where  is  it  ?  " 

190 


THE  PUESUING  CHRIST  191 

"  Eivka,  you  must  be  patient,  we  have  been  here 
only  six  months,  we  haven't  reached  America  yet, 
we  are  still  in  a  suburb  of  the  Pale.  Wait  until  we 
reach  America, ' '  Samuel  replied.  * '  At  least  our  lives 
are  safe  here,  while  to-night,  in  Eussia,  God  knows 
how  many  thousands  of  Jews  are  in  danger  of  being 
killed." 

"I'd  just  as  soon  be  crushed  by  a  club  in  the 
hands  of  a  mob,  Samuel,  as  to  have  my  blood  sucked 
out  little  by  little  by  men  like  Eosenfelt.  Anyway, 
if  this  isn't  America,  I  am  going  to  find  it.  I  am 
going  to  plunge.  Good-bye,  Yankev,  good-bye, 
Samuel."  She  turned  into  Second  Avenue,  and  was 
almost  swallowed  by  the  crowd,  while  Yankevran  after 
her  and  tried  to  pull  her  back  to  the  quieter  street. 

"  You  must  not  go,  Eivka  ;  you  must  go  home  with 
me ;  to-morrow  I'll  look  for  a  job,  and  you  can  stay 
at  home  and  be  a  lady." 

"  I  must,  Yankev?  Who  said  I  must  I  My  dear, 
Zionistic,  curly-headed  sheep,  ta  ta,  good-bye  ! " 

"  Eivka,"  and  he  caught  her  hand,  while  the  pass 
ers-by  looked  curiously  at  the  agitated  couple  ;  "  you 
must  not  go  ;  come,  let's  go  home  and  to-morrow  I'll 
find  a  job  and  you  need  not  work  at  all.  I'll  earn 
enough  for  both  of  us." 

"  You,  Yankev,  earn  enough  for  both  of  us  t  You 
would  have  starved  already,  if  I  hadn't  earned 
money  outside  the  sweatshop.  Now,  good-bye,  go 
home  and  be  my  good  sheep,  and  I'll  bring  you  a 


192  THE  MEDIATOE 

package  of  cigarettes.  I  must  go  and  hustle.  Good 
bye,  Samuel,  take  care  of  Yankev."  The  stream  of 
humanity  carried  her  along,  and  in  a  moment  she 
was  lost  to  sight,  Yankev  plunging  after  her  in  the 
effort  to  regain  possession  of  her. 

Samuel  had  not  strength  enough  left  to  follow  them  ; 
he  was  almost  physically  consumed  by  the  work  of 
the  week,  and  too  much  overcome  by  the  great  dis 
asters  in  Eussia  to  realize  quickly  the  possibilities  of 
peril  to  Eivka.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  turn  to 
wards  his  lodgings,  his  arm  was  clutched,  and  he 
saw  Bill's  radiant  face. 

"Mr.  Samuel,"  he  said,  "I  have  five  dollars  in 
my  pocket,  five  dollars  ;  he  gave  me  five  dollars  and 
they're  burning  in  my  pocket  like  fire.  I  haven't 
had  five  dollars  since — I  don't  remember  when,  Mr. 
Samuel.  Oh,  Samuel !  you're  not  like  the  others  ; 
you  never  made  fun  of  me  and  you  won't  make  fun  of 
me  now.  Mr.  Samuel,  I  am  afraid." 

1 1  You're  afraid  ?    Not  of  being  robbed,  Bill  ? ' ' 

"No,  no,  not  of  being  robbed,  Samuel,  but  I— 
you'll  understand  me,  Samuel.  I  smelt  it  as  soon  as 
I  struck  the  street,  liquor — liquor  !  I'm  afraid  I'll 
go  into  a  saloon  and  drink.  I  promised  last  night 
never  to  drink  another  drop.  Mr.  Samuel,"  his 
voice  grew  mellow  from  tears,  il  take  me  to  the  Sal 
vation  Army  on  the  Bowery,  hold  on  to  me  and  don't 
let  me  go  till  we  get  there.  You'll  do  it,  won't  you? 
I  knew  you  would.  Take  hold  of  me." 


THE  PURSUING  CHEIST  193 

He  gripped  Samuel's  hand  as  they  walked  along 
Houston  Street,  and  when  they  came  to  the  corner  of 
Second  Avenue,  Bill's  body  shook.  Every  thirsty 
nerve  seemed  to  tear  him,  as  if  to  overpower  him, 
and  he  pled  with  Samuel. 

"Samuel,  let  me  go  !  For  Heaven's  sake  let  me  go 
and  get  just  one  drink,  just  one,  and  then  I'll  quit 
sure  !  I  promise,  I  swear  I'll  not  drink  another 
drop  !  Why  do  you  hold  me  ?  Let  go,  I  say  ! 
Damn  you,  you  sheeney,  let  me  go  !" 

But  Samuel  held  on  to  the  struggling  victim— al 
most  dragging  him  along. 

At  length  Bill  recovered  himself  and  said  :  "  The 
captain  told  me  to  sing  when  I  thought  I  couldn't  re 
sist  temptation.  I'll  sing." 

"  Hold  the  Fort  for  I  am  coming, 
Jesus  signals  back  to  Heaven, 
By  Thy  grace  I  will." 

"  Jesus  is  a  wonderful  Saviour,  He  is,  Samuel !  I 
know  you're  a  Jew  and  you  don't  drink ;  so  you 
don't  know ;  you  can't  know,  but  He  is,  He  is  a  won 
derful  Saviour,"  and  he  began  to  sing  again  : 

"What  a  wonderful  Saviour  ia  Jesus,  my  Jesus, 
What  a  wonderful  Saviour  is  Jesus,  my  Lord." 

When  they  came  to  the  Bowery  he  quickened  his 
pace  and  said :  "  Now  let's  walk  fast,  Samuel,  and 
for  goodness'  sake,  don't  let  me  go.  This  is  my  hell 
— this  street  is.  Every  step  I  take  here  now,  looks 


194  THE  MEDIATOR 

like  a  step  down — down — and  I  can't  walk  straight. 
Hold  me,  Samuel,  for  Heaven's  sake  hold  me ! 
There  she  is,  Samuel,  let  me  go !  she  is  my  friend, 
let  me  go  and  speak  to  her.  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute. 
You  won't  let  me  go?  Oh!"  and  he  gnashed  his 
teeth.  "  You  must  let  me  have  my  liberty  !  I  must 
go  after  her !  See  how  she  smiles  at  me ! " 

Samuel's  clutch  was  firm.  "  Bill,  she  is  a  fiend 

and  you  know  it !  try  to  think  of  God,  think  of " 

how  hard  it  was  to  pronounce  that  name,  "think  of 
Jesus  and  He  will  help  you.  Sing,  Bill,  sing  some 
thing." 

"You're  right,  Samuel,  God  bless  you!  She's 
gone.  God  bless  you,  Samuel."  He  began  to  sing 
again : 

"  What  can  -wash  away  my  sin  ? 

Nothing  but  the  blood  of  Jesus. 
What  can  make  me  pure  within  ? 
Nothing  but  the  blood  of  Jesus." 

The  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks  as  he  sang. 
Samuel  was  bathed  in  perspiration  from  the  effort  he 
had  made  to  keep  his  hold  on  Bill.  It  had  been  no 
easy  task,  in  his  state  of  physical  exhaustion,  and  the 
slushy,  slimy  condition  of  the  street,  which  made 
walking  very  difficult. 

' '  Samuel,  I  am  vile ;  you  ought  not  to  touch  me  ; 
I  am.  vile,  I  can't  tell  you  how  vile,  but  '  Jesus  is 
able  to  save,'  to  save  'Even  me,  even  me.' 
There,  over  there  it  is !  thank  God,  Samuel !  do 


THE  PURSUING  CHRIST  195 

you  see  it  there  ?  A  great  big  electric  sign  and  the 
cross,  three  squares  from  here?  Samuel,  I  am  not 
worth  it,  I  am  not  worth  it,  but  save  me !  These 
three  blocks  are  the  very  bottom,  the  very  bottom  of 
hell !  I  have  committed  every  iniquity  here  that  a 
man  can  commit,  and  this  will  be  the  fight  of  my 
life.  Samuel,  you're  a  Jew ;  you  don't  know,  you 
can't  know,  how  precious  Jesus  is  to  me  !  My  father 
punished  me  and  drove  me  out  of  the  house,  my  own 
father,  Samuel !  but  Jesus,  He'll  never  leave  me,  nor 
forsake  me,  He  said  so.  Hold  on  to  me,  hold  both 
my  hands  !  I  am  afraid.  Mr.  Samuel,  do  you  want 
to  save  me?  Thenjsay  it,  don't  be  afraid  to  say  it. 
Say  it  to  me  all  the  time :  '  Jesus  is  able  to  save, 
Jesus  is  able  to  save.'  You  don't  mind  saying  it,  do 
you?" 

They  were  underneath  the  elevated  railway.  It 
was  dark  overhead,  and  the  drippings  from  the  track 
fell  upon  them.  On  each  side  of  them  were  glar 
ingly-lighted  saloons  and  cheap  flaring  theatres ;  the 
voices  of  the  barkers  penetrated  the  rattle  and  noises 
of  the  streets.  Odours  of  beer  and  whiskey  pervaded 
the  heavy  air  and  racked  Bill's  nerves ;  but  through 
it  all  he  walked  docile  as  a  lamb,  for  Samuel  re 
peated  again  and  again : 

"Jesus  is  able  to  save, 
Jesus  is  able  to  save." 

"Two  more  blocks,  Bill,  and  all  will  be  well. 


196  THE  MEDIATOE 

There,  look  at  that  cross  all  lighted  for  you ! 
'Jesus  is  able  to  save.'  The  next  corner,  Bill,  and 
it's  over — thank  God,  Bill, — here  we  are  1 " 

Samuel  did  not  intend  to  follow  his  eager  compan 
ion,  who  almost  leaped  through  the  door  which  was 
opened  by  the  doorkeeper,  but  he  was  chilled  and 
weary,  and  the  warmth  which  greeted  him  from 
within  was  seductive ;  so  he  entered.  He  found  him 
self  in  a  long  room,  lighted  by  nickering  arc  lamps ; 
but  all  he  was  conscious  of,  at  first,  was  the  bright 
ness  of  the  light  and  the  heaviness  of  the  air. 

When  his  eyes  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  light, 
he  could  see  that  the  room  was  full  of  men  and 
women,  the  men  predominating.  Nearly  all  of  them 
bore  signs  of  dissipation,  while  poverty  was  visible 
on  their  faces  and  in  their  shabby  garments. 

In  front  of  him,  at  what  seemed  a  great  distance 
away,  was  an  elevated  platform  on  which  men  sat, 
uniformed  like  soldiers.  "Women  were  there  also, 
and  all  were  either  beating  tambourines  and  drums 
or  were  singing  lustily,  while  some  did  both. 

When  Samuel  and  Bill  entered  the  room,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  all  present  were  in  the  midst  of  a 
song,  the  leader  called  out :  "  Glory,  Hallelujah  ! 
here  is  brother  Bill  back  again  !  kept  by  the  grace 
of  God  ! "  and  she  began  beating  her  tambourine  and 
singing : 

"  What  can  make  us  white  as  snow  ? 
Nothing  but  the  blood  of  Jesus." 


THE  PURSUING  CHEIST  197 

The  soldiers  and  the  entire  audience  immediately 
switched  to  her  tune  without  evident  embarrassment, 
no  one  seeming  to  notice  the  discords. 

Everything  was  strange  to  Samuel.  He  had  ex 
pected  a  religious  meeting,  from  what  Bill  had  dis 
closed  regarding  the  nature  of  the  Salvation  Army. 
The  unconventionality,  the  spirit  of  camaraderie,  the 
plain  language  used,  the  weird  music — all  repelled 
him  at  first.  Not  until  from  all  over  the  room  came 
testimonies  from  the  lips  of  men  and  women  who 
spoke  of  the  saving  power  of  Christ  over  their  lives, 
did  he  realize  the  significance  of  the  place,  and  the 
great  importance  of  this  form  of  religious  service. 

A  woman  rose  and  told  that  she  had  been  a  cocaine 
fiend  ;  another  one  had  been  drawn  from  the  lowest 
level  of  a  life  of  shame,  to  realize  the  magnitude  of 
her  sin  and  the  grandeur  of  her  nature ;  burglars, 
gamblers,  and  drunkards  testified  to  the  change 
which  had  come  into  their  lives — and  then  that 
which  seemed  to  Samuel  the  greatest  wonder  of  all 
took  place. 

A  young  woman,  a  member  of  the  Army,  began  to 
speak  ;  her  language  was  crude,  the  language  of  the 
street ;  but  spoken  in  the  accents  of  heaven.  The 
burden  of  her  speech  was,  "Come  to  Jesus,  He  is 
able  to  save."  She  called  it  out  a  hundred  times : 
"Come,  poor  sinners,  Jesus  loves  you,  come  and  be 
saved  ! "  And  from  all  parts  of  the  room  men  and 
women  came  to  her ;  she  bade  them  kneel,  and 


198  THE  MEDIATOE 

all  of  them  knelt  as  if  impelled  by  a  command. 
Then  she  prayed,  and  her  prayer  seemed  to  open  to 
them  the  very  windows  of  heaven.  They  groaned, 
as  if  oppressed  by  some  burden ;  but  after  a  time  one 
and  then  another  rose,  their  faces  aglow  from  joy, 
testifying  that  they  had  found  forgiveness  for  their 
sins,  and  that  they  were  determined  to  lead  a  new 
life. 

Some  spiritual  magic  seemed  to  be  woven  around 
Samuel.  He  felt  the  old  hunger  for  God,  he  yearned 
to  be  able  to  pray.  The  spiritual  exaltation  in  which 
he  had  so  long  lived,  and  from  which  he  had  been 
cast  so  suddenly,  lured  him  again,  and  he  looked 
enviously  at  the  woman,  so  passionate  in  her  prayer. 
The  long-quenched  desire  to  save,  awoke  in  him, 
and  he  felt  that  he  must  rise  and  speak ;  must  ask 
men  to  come  with  him  into  the  presence  of  the  Di 
vine.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  long  resist  the 
impelling  force,  which  seemed  to  grow  greater  and 
greater. 

When  the  woman  at  last  rose  from  her  knees,  with 
her  face  transfigured  by  spiritual  passion,  she  went 
from  seat  to  seat,  speaking  a  word  of  admonition  or 
encouragement  to  each  man  and  woman.  Samuel 
dreaded  to  have  her  come  to  him,  for  he  felt  that  she 
represented  his  other  life,  the  broken  life,  the  life 
crushed  out  of  him  by  the  foes  of  his  race — and  now 
he  must  live  for  his  own  people,  for  his  own 
faith. 


THE  PUKSUING  CHEIST  199 

Nearer  and  nearer  she  came,  and  the  more  he 
struggled  to  free  himself  from  the  power  of  her  pres 
ence,  the  more  he  felt  it.  At  last  she  stood  before 
him,  and  looking  straight  into  his  face,  with  the 
boldness  which  the  saving  passion  gave  her,  she 
asked  :  "  My  brother,  do  you  love  Jesus  ?  " 

He  looked  into  her  face,  afraid,  as  a  child  might  be 
afraid  when  the  teacher  asks  a  question  hard  to 
answer — then  he  said  :  l  i  Yes. ' ' 

Hardly  had  the  word  escaped  his  lips  when  he  felt 
that  it  was  treason  which  he  had  spoken — a  lie — that 
he  must  take  the  word  back  and  leave  the  place. 
Something  seemed  to  grip  his  heart,  his  breathing  be 
came  heavy,  the  air  grew  dark,  and  with  one  supreme 
effort  he  rose,  rushed  to  the  door,  and  then  out  into 
the  slush,  the  damp  and  the  dark. 

He  was  not  conscious  of  the  crowd  and  the  noises ; 
he  simply  felt  that  he  must  run  as  fast  as  he  could, 
away  from  this  pursuing  influence.  He  shook  him 
self,  muttered  strange  words,  and  recalled  incidents 
of  long  ago  to  blot  out  that  "  yes,"  which  had  es 
caped  his  lips.  He  did  not,  he  could  not  love  this 
Christ,  this  pursuing  Christ,  who  had  lured  him 
away  from  home  and  friends  and  who  had 
plunged  his  peaceful  life  into  a  remorseless 
struggle. 

Often  he  would  stop  and  cry  out:  "Leave  me 
alone!  Leave  me  alone!"  and  those  who  heard, 
looked  suspiciously  at  him,  thinking  him  drunk  or 


200  THE  MEDIATOE 

insane.  When  he  reached  the  Ghetto,  he  breathed 
more  easily  and  slackened  his  pace.  At  last,  hungry, 
and  worn  in  body  and  spirit,  he  climbed  the  five 
flights  of  stairs  which  led  to  his  lodgings. 


XVIII 
HIS  NAME  WAS  LOVE 

"  TTS  that  you,  Samuel?"  Malke,  the  eight-year- 
old  daughter  of  the  barber  of  Kottowin,  called 

-*-  through  the  darkness,  as  Samuel  came  stum 
bling  into  the  kitchen,  breathless  from  the  haste  with 
which  he  had  tried  to  escape  his  experience  of  the 
evening. 

"Yes,  little  one;  but  why  are  you  not  asleep?" 
he  asked,  in  a  voice  which  betrayed  his  weariness 
and  inner  tumult,  rather  than  his  anxiety  over 
Malke' s  sleeplessness ;  for  she  was  awake  at  all  hours 
of  the  night.  Day  and  night  were  alike  full  of  pain 
and  darkness  to  her. 

"I  couldn't  go  to  sleep,  Samuel ;  but  what  is  the 
"matter?    Your  voice  trembles,  as  if  something  had 
happened  to  you.    Have  you  found  out  anything 
about  your  father  ?  " 

"No,  dearie,  I  haven't;  but  we  had  some  trouble 
in  the  shop  and  we  have  had  bad  news  from  Eussia. 
Think  of  it,  Malke,  they  have  killed  hundreds  and 
thousands  of  people  in  Eussia.  and  in  Kottowin,  too. 
Everybody  there  was  killed  except  Dr.  Bosnik  and 
his  family  .  that's  what  the  paper  says.  You  re 
member  the  ioctor,  don't  you,  dear  ?  " 

201 


202  THE  MEDIATOE 

"  Indeed,  I  do.  He  was  so  funny  and  rongh,  but 
awfully  good.  I  wish  he  was  my  doctor  instead  of 
Dr.  Mandelstein.  I  hate  him,  I  just  hate  him  !  He 
calls  me  his  little  monkey.  You  know,  Samuel,  he 
has  a  monkey  in  his  house  ;  my,  but  that's  a  fine 
house  !  He  has  five  rooms,  and  a  cook  and  a  piano. 
I  wish  I  had  a  piano.  It's  so  lonesome  here  all  day. 
If  I  had  a  piano,  this  is  the  way  I  would  play."  Her 
fingers  moved  along  the  edge  of  the  kitchen  stove, 
close  to  which  her  bed  stood.  "My  !  I  wish  I  could 
play  like  Eivka  1  She  took  me  with  her  last  Sunday 
to  Mr.  Bosenfelt's  house  and  she  played  for  me,  after 
she  gave  Eosalie  her  lesson.  My,  but  she  played  ! 
My  heart  just  jumped,  and  I  had  to  cry,  and  Eivka 
cried  too.  I  could  feel  the  tears  on  her  cheeks.  Mr. 
Eosenfelt  was  so  funny.  He  said  to  Eivka  :  '  Har 
you  goink  to  heat  up  mine  piano  ?  You'll  break  him 
all  to  pieces.  You  vas  not  vorkink  on  a  sewink  ma 
chine.'  Then  Eivka  gave  such  a  bang  on  the  piano 
that  Mr.  Eosenfelt  jumped  up  and  down  as  if  he  was 
crazy."  Malke  laughed  as  she  recalled  Mr.  Eosen 
felt. 

Samuel  sighed  deeply,  for  his  thoughts  were  else 
where.  The  little  girl's  fingers  moved  over  his  face, 
and  she  said:  "Dear  Samuel,  I  didn't  mean  to 
laugh  when  you  are  sad.  Tell  me,  what  makes  you 
so  unhappy?" 

"  I  have  told  you  already,"  he  replied. 

"Is  it  that  the  Jews  are  being  killed?    I  didn't 


HIS  NAME  WAS  LOVE  203 

know ;  but,  Samuel,  papa  said  that  that  always  has 
been  so,  and  always  will  be  so.  He  says  that  we  are 
cursed  by  God.  Is  that  true  ?  " 

Samuel  did  not  answer,  and  she  continued : 
"  Samuel,  are  we  cursed?  Tell  me  !  It  must  be  so ; 
for  I  hadn't  done  anything  to  anybody  when  they 
struck  me  over  the  head,  had  I,  Samuel ?  It  must  be 
that  God  wanted  it  that  way." 

"No,  Malke,"  and  he  spoke  in  a  voice  harsh  and 
tense.  "  It  isn't  true.  God  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  Oh !  Malke  dear,  don't  bother  me  to-night.  I 
am  just  full  of  pain.  Go  to  sleep,  dearest ! " 

He  paced  the  small  kitchen  which  also  served  as 
bedroom  for  Malke,  Tankev,  and  himself.  Malke 
was  quiet  as  long  as  he  walked.  He  stopped  beside 
her  bed  and  looked  down  upon  the  poor,  pale  child, 
whose  eyes  were  bandaged,  and  who  was  growing 
blind  at  the  age  of  eight  years.  The  mob  had  beaten 
her  innocent  head  ;  therefore,  the  beautiful  world 
must  be  shut  from  her  before  she  had  quite  caught  a 
glimpse  of  it.  Samuel  thought  of  the  thousands  and 
thousands  of  sufferers,  the  homeless,  beaten  wander 
ers  who  were  leaving  Poland  and  Eussia,  and  he  felt 
all  their  pain  and  agony,  just  as  he  felt  the  child's 
pain  and  suffering. 

"  God  !  God  ! "  he  whispered,  and  the  words  came 
from  his  lips  passionately  >  "God?  There  is  no 
God ! "  Then  came  to  him  those  same  monitions 
which  he  had  so  often  felt,  the  same  visitant  which 


204  THE  MEDIATOR 

had  knocked  at  his  child  heart,  seemed  knocking 
still,  and  the  same  exalted  yearnings  filled  his  soul. 
He  could  not  shake  himself  loose  from  the  thought 
that  there  was  a  God,  and  that  He  was  then  in  the 
room.  He  felt  a  pressure  and  a  presence,  from  which 
he  could  not  free  himself. 

Malke  spoke  again.  "Samuel,  my  head  aches, 
and  I  feel  as  if  they  were  pulling  my  eyes  out.  Won't 
you  take  me  on  your  lap  and  stroke  my  head  ? " 

He  lifted  the  child  out  of  her  bed.  Her  long, 
angular  body  was  pitiably  thin.  The  nose  and 
mouth,  the  only  features  visible  under  the  bandage, 
looked  delicate,  sensitive,  and  as  if  used  to  pain. 

She  snuggled  close  to  Samuel  when  he  sat  down, 
and  after  freeing  himself  from  her  eager  embrace  he 
began  to  stroke  her  head.  "Samuel,  dear,  your 
fingers  feel  to  my  head  as  if  I  was  eating  ice  cream. 
It  is  so  hot  inside  my  head  !  just  stroke  it ;  my,  how 
good  it  feels !  Tell  me  a  story,  Samuel." 

"Not  to-night,  little  one,  you  must  go  to  sleep." 

"  Please  do  ;  if  you  will  tell  me  a  story,  then  I  will 
tell  you  something,"  she  said  coaxingly. 

"  Not  to-night,  Malke,  it's  late,  and  if  papa  should 
hear  us  he  would  scold." 

Malke  laughed.  "Only  listen,"  she  said,  and  her 
father's  rhythmic  snore  was  just  then  interrupted  by 
one  of  peculiar  violence  which  made  both  of  them 
laugh. 

"It  sounded  as  if  he  had  caught  something  with 


HIS  NAME  WAS  LOVE  205 

his  mouth,  didn't  it?"  she  said.  "  Please  tell 
me  a  story,  just  a  little  story,  and  then  I'll  go  to 
sleep." 

"Now  you  go  into  your  bed,"  and  Samuel  lifted 
her  back,  covered  her  and  tucked  her  in — "Now, 
go  to  sleep." 

"  Just  one  story,  Samuel,"  she  pleaded.  "  Tell  me 
just  one  story  and  don't  take  your  hand  away  from 
my  head,  it  feels  so  good.  It's  so  dark  and  lonesome 
in  myself,  tell  me  a  story  " — and  she  clung  to  him 
until  he  moved  his  chair  beside  her  bed,  put  his  hand 
upon  her  head,  and  said  :  "All  right,  sweetheart, 
I'll  tell  you  a  story. 

"  Long,  long  ago  there  was  a  man  who  came  into  a 
country  where  there  were  many  sick  people.  Some 
of  them  couldn't  walk,  some  of  them  couldn't  hear, 
and  some  of  them  couldn't  see." 

"Samuel,  which  is  worse!  not  to  hear  or  not  to 
see?  "  she  interrupted  him. 

"  Malke,  you  must  be  still  and  go  to  sleep.  It  hurt 
the  man  very  much  to  see  the  people  suffer." 

"Didn't  they  have  any  doctors?"  Malke  inter 
rupted  again. 

"Yes,  dear,  they  did,  but  they  couldn't  help  every 
body  ;  and  besides,  these  people  were  very  poor  and 
couldn't  pay  them." 

"Like  poor  papa,"  Malke  spoke  again.  "He 
told  me  it  costs  an  awful  lot  of  money.  Samuel,  tell 
me  again.  Did  He  really  make  the  blind  see  ?  "  and 


206  THE  MEDIATOR 

she  sat  up  straight  in  her  bed  and  her  hand  caught 
his.  "  Is  that  truly  true,  Samuel,  dear  ?  " 

"Yes,  Malke,  it  is  written  in  a  book  which  I  have 
read  ever  so  many  times.  It  tells  of  one  man  who 
was  born  blind,  and  he  stood  by  the  wayside,  and 
when  this  man  came  by,  he  cried  out :  l  Thou  Son  of 
David,  have  mercy  on  me.'  " 

"  Was  He  a  Jew  ? "  she  interrupted. 

"Yes,  dear,  and  some  of  His  disciples  told  the 
blind  man  that  he  should  not  make  such  a  noise ;  but 
he  called  out  again :  '  Thou  Son  of  David,  have 
mercy  on  me.'  Then  this  good  man  asked  him  what 
he  wanted,  and  he  said  :  l  That  I  might  receive  my 
sight,'  and  He  touched  the  man's  eyes  and  he  could 
see." 

Again  Malke  clutched  his  hand,  and  repeated : 
"  He  could  see  !  Oh !  Samuel,  if  I  had  lived  at  that 
time  I  would  have  waited  a  whole  year  for  Him. 
Samuel,  Dr.  Mandelstein  told  papa  to-day,  I  heard 
him  say  it :  'It's  no  use,  she  is  blind.'  Oh,  it's  ter 
rible  !  "  and  she  began  to  cry. 

11  Don't  cry,  sweetheart,"  and  he  stroked  her  head 
soothingly,  "don't  cry  ! "  He  tried  to  speak  to  her  ; 
but  what  he  wished  to  say  was  locked  in  his  heart — 
so  deep  that  he  could  not  say  it.  As  he  looked  at 
the  poor  helpless  child  again,  he  said  :  "  Don't  cry, 
dearie  ;  we  will  send  for  Dr.  Eosnik  and  he  will 
make  you  see." 

The  child  held  both  his  hands,  gripping  them 


HIS  NAME  WAS  LOVE  207 

nervously  as  she  asked  :  "  Samuel,  didn't  that  man 
tell  anybody  how  He  healed  the  blind  people  ?  " 

' '  Yes,  Malke,  He  did.  He  told  all  His  disciples  to 
go  out  and  do  the  same  thing  ;  but  they  have  forgot 
ten  now,  it's  so  long  ago.  Instead,  they  have  been 
making  those  who  have  eyes  blind,  just  as  they  made 
you.  They  have  been  making  the  well  sick,  they 
have  made  prisoners  of  the  free.  You  don't  under 
stand,  Malke  ;  but  they  have  forgotten.  Now  go  to 
sleep,  little  one." 

"  Samuel,"  the  child  said,  as  he  once  more  tucked 
her  in  between  the  scant  and  flimsy  quilts,  "what 
was  that  man's  name  f  " 

"Go  to  sleep,  Malke,"  he  tried  to  evade  her 
question. 

"  Tell  me,  Samuel,  and  then  I  will  go  to  sleep." 

He  sat  down  beside  her,  and,  stroking  her  fore 
head,  he  whispered  in  her  ear:  "His  name  was 
Love." 

"That's  a  beautiful  name,"  she  replied. 

"Yes,  dearie,  it  is  beautiful.  Love,  just  Love, 
that  was  His  name.  Now  go  to  sleep,  my  little 
one." 

"His  name  was  Love — a  beautiful  name" — she 
whispered  softly,  half-asleep.  "  His  name  was  Love, 
Love,  just  Love." 

"Yes,  dear,"  Samuel  said.  "He  made  the  lame 
walk,  the  deaf  hear,  and  the  blind  see  j  His  name 
was  Love — go  to  sleep — sleep — sweet  sleep.  His 


208  THE  MEDIATOR 

name,  dear,  was  Love— just  Love — Love."  As  he 
stroked  her  head,  his  hot  tears  fell  upon  her  face ; 
but  she  did  not  move,  she  was  sound  asleep. 


RIVKA  DISCOVERS  AMERICA 

WITHOUT  undressing,  Samuel  flung  him 
self  upon  the  plush  couch  which  served 
as  his  bed,  and  waited  for  the  sleep  which 
came  but  slowly.  His  overwrought  brain  was  busy, 
and  the  events  of  the  day  passed  through  it  in  swift 
and  wearying  succession.  The  barber's  snoring  did 
not  tend  to  soothe  his  nerves ;  but,  little  by  little,  his 
senses  seemed  to  be  slipping  from  him,  and  he  felt 
himself  being  borne  away  upon  the  tranquil  wings  of 
sleep.  Then  he  heard  some  one  feel  for  the  key-hole 
of  the  kitchen  door,  which  was  quietly  opened,  and 
Eivka  entered.  By  the  light  of  the  little  flickering 
night-lamp,  she  seemed  to  him  beautiful ;  her  face 
was  radiant,  and  her  gown,  of  some  brilliant  colour, 
glistened  as  it  swept  the  kitchen  floor.  She  went  at 
once  to  Malke's  bed  and  looked  at  her ;  then  as  she 
turned  and  saw  Samuel's  eyes  following  her,  she 
walked  over  to  him  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the 
couch. 

He  opened  his  eyes  wide  now  and  noticed  again 
how  handsome  she  looked.  A  new  fire  shone  in  her 
black  eyes,  the  gleam  of  battle  which  always  lurked 
in  them  was  gone,  and,  instead,  he  saw  a  light  there 

209 


210  THE  MEDIATOE 

which  was  tender  and  mellow,  yet  exultant.  He  had 
never  noticed  before  that  her  cheeks  were  red,  yet 
they  certainly  were  now  ;  while  her  complexion  was 
unnaturally  fair.  The  dress  she  wore  was  gaudily 
trimmed,  and  its  colour  was  garish,  as  he  saw  it  more 
closely. 

"Eivka,"  he  said,  as  he  took  her  outstretched 
hand,  "I  must  be  dreaming,  you  look  like  a  prin 
cess, — what  has  happened  to  you?  Has  your  ward 
robe  come  from  Eussia  f  "  he  added  with  a  smile. 

Her  voice  had  a  strange  quaver  in  it  as  she  replied  : 
"No,  Samuel,  my  wardrobe  is  still  in  Eussia,  but  I 
have  been  in  America,  and  it  is  wonderful,  beautiful, 
and  full  of  friends,  full  of  friends,  Samuel.  You  were 
right,  old  boy,  if  s  full  of  friends."  She  laughed, 
and  even  her  laugh  sounded  unnatural. 

"Tell  me  where  you  have  been,  Eivka!"  he  de 
manded  somewhat  harshly. 

"  I  told  you,  you  stupid  boy.  I  was  in  America, 
right  in  it  I  have  found  it  Mirrors,  waxed  floors, 
beautiful  women,  and  men — oh  1  the  men,  Samuel, 
the  men  !  They  made  me  play  for  them.  I  played 
Liszt's  'Ehapsodie  Hungroise,'  and  then  they  called 
for  rag-time,  and  I  gave  them  American  rag-time  in 
Eussian  style,  and  they  liked  it  and  asked  for  more. 
One  of  them  said  that  the  way  I  played  rag-time  re 
minded  him  of  apple  pie  with  caviare.  Isn't  that 
funny  ?  And,  Samuel,  there  was  champagne  1  piff, 
pafif,  puff !  How  the  corks  flew  !  My  head  is  just 


EIYKA  DISCOVEES  AMEEICA          211 

going  round  and  round.  Samuel,  my  fortune  is 
made  !  See  these  clothes,  they  are  mine,  and  I  am 
to  come  to-morrow  night  and  every  night  and  play 
for  them  in  apple  pie  and  caviare  style.  Isn't  that 
great  ?  No  more  cloaks  for  me,  no  more  Mr.  Eosen- 
felt,  no  more  music  lessons  for  his  Eosalie  !  — '  Yoost 
my  luck  ! '  "  and  she  wagged  her  tongue  between  her 
lips,  imitating  her  former  "  Boss."  "Why  don't 
you  congratulate  me,  Samuel !  Why  do  you  stare  at 
me  that  way?  " 

He  had  lifted  his  head  from  the  couch  and  looked 
at  her  intently.  His  own  face  had  flushed,  and  he 
felt  as  if  he  were  shaken  by  a  fever.  "  Eivka,"  he 
said,  horror  almost  freezing  the  words  upon  his  lips ; 
u  go  to  bed  ;  I  can't  stand  anything  more  to-night. 
Go  to  bed,  this  is  terrible  !  " 

"What  is  terrible?"  she  said  rising  from  the 
couch. 

"  Nothing,  Eivka.  Go  to  bed,  and  to-morrow  I'll 
talk  to  you." 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  think  is  terrible.  That 
I  have  left  the  sweatshop,  and  the  sewing  machine, 
and  Mr.  Eosenfelt,  and  that  I  have  given  up  my 
chance  of  earning  four  dollars  and  fifty  cents  a  week  ? 
That's  what  I  got  from  our  friend,  Mr.  Eosenfelt. 
What  is  terrible  ?  tell  me,"  and  she  gripped  his  arm 
and  held  him  down  to  the  couch.  "  Tell  me,  Samuel, 
what  you  are  thinking." 

"That  can't  matter  to  you,"  he  said. 


212  THE  MEDIATOR 

"It  can't  matter!  It  matters  everything — what 
you  think  about  me,  Samuel,  everything."  The 
light  which  had  glowed  in  her  eyes  died  out  and  the 
gleam  of  battle  appeared. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  Yankev,  Rivka,  what 
he  will  say,"  Samuel  replied,  trying  to  delay  the  dis 
closure  of  his  own  thoughts. 

"  Listen,  Samuel.  It  does  not  matter  one  bit  to 
me  what  Yankev  will  think  ;  but  it  matters  every 
thing  to  me  what  you  believe." 

"  Why  what  I  believe,  Eivka  !  " 

"  Because,  Samuel,  what  you  believe  of  me  I  shall 
be.  Oh  !  Samuel !  "  and  her  voice  grew  tender  as  he 
had  never  heard  it  before.  "What  you  think  of 
me,  I  shall  be" — she  was  going  to  say  something 
more ;  but  quickly  changed  her  words,  if  not  her 
thought.  "Listen  to  me,  Samuel.  You  are  the 
only  man  I  know  who  has  made  me  feel  that  I 
wanted  to  do  just  what  he  wished  me  to  do.  You 
have  held  me  here  six  months  in  this  place,  worse 
than  a  prison,  when  I  wanted  to  go  out  and  beat 
down  the  prison  walls  of  all  these  poor  slaves  that  I 
know.  You  have  told  me  to  be  patient,  and  I  have 
been  patient  till  to-night,  when  Eosenfelt  doled  out 
to  us  our  pitiable  wage.  Then  I  rebelled,  and  I  went 
out  to  see  for  myself.  I  wanted  to  taste  the  Amer 
ican  life,  and,  Samuel,  I  have  tasted  it.  It's  still  like 
fire  in  my  veins.  I  like  it,  I  love  it,  it  was  wonder 
ful  !  To  play  once  more  as  I  used  to,  to  play  myself 


EIYKA  DISCOVEES  AMEBICA          213 

out,  to  give  vent  to  the  stored-up  fire  in  my  heart, 
and  burn  away  for  a  night  my  prison  bars  ! 

"Now  tell  me,  Samuel,  what  you  think.  I  want 
to  know  just  what  is  this  minute  in  your  mind  ;  tell 
me  ! "  She  threw  herself  down  beside  him  and  took 
his  hands  in  hers.  They  did  not  know  that  the  door 
had  opened  and  that  Yankev  stood  behind  them  al 
most  petrified  by  the  sight  before  him. 

"I  am  intruding,  am  I?"  he  said  sarcastically. 
Then  measuring  with  his  blazing  gray  eyes  the  gor 
geous  gown  that  Eivka  wore,  and  looking  into  her 
face,  the  rouge  upon  it  now  streaked  by  tears,  he 
asked  :  "  Were  you  rehearsing  for  a  Purim  play  ?  " 

Eivka  had  risen  and  confronted  him  in  silence ; 
but  her  face  had  hardened,  her  mouth  was  firmly  set, 
and  she  met  his  contemptuous  glance  undisturbed. 

"  You  look  like  Queen  Esther,"  he  said,  pausing 
long  enough  between  words  to  make  his  insinuation 
plain. 

"  You  look  like  a  fool ! "  she  replied  without  hesi 
tation. 

"  Where  did  you  get  those  clothes  ?  " 

"  That's  none  of  your  business,"  she  replied. 

1 1  It  is  my  business,  Eivka,"  and  his  voice  rose  to 
an  alarming  pitch. 

"Then,  if  it  is  your  business,  I  will  tell  you.  I 
got  this  dress  from  Mr.  Moskowsky,  the  proprietor 
of  the  Alhambra  Cafe"." 

Yankev  laughed  loudly  and  derisively.     "  The  Al- 


214  THE  MEDIATOE 

hambraf  I  suppose  you  were  the  Moorish  princess 
in  the  harem.  I  know  now  what  yon  are." 

"  It  does  not  matter  to  me  what  you  think  I  am — 
not  one  bit,"  Eivka  replied  coolly. 

"  It  does  not  matter  what  I  think,  who  have  sacri 
ficed  myself  for  you  t  I,  who  have  given  my  life  for 
yon  ?  It  does  not  matter  to  me  that  you  have  gone  to 
the  Alhambra  and  wear  Moskowsky's  trademark  on 
your  back?  " 

"What  do  you  meant"  she  said  coming  close  to 
him. 

"  What  do  I  mean?  I  mean  that  you  are  a  bad 
woman,  bad,  bad !  that  you  are  as  the  dust  under  my 
feet,  that  this  is  no  place  for  you,  this  home  where 
there  are  innocent  girls  sleeping,  that  you  are  pollut 
ing  the  air.  Leave  the  house,  leave  it,  I  say  I  " 

Malke  moved  uneasily  in  her  sleep.  Yankev 
caught  Eivka' s  arm  and  began  to  push  her  towards 
the  door. 

11  Where  am  I  to  go,  Yankev  t  Tell  me,  where  am 
I  to  go  f  "  she  said  facing  him. 

"Go  on  the  street  where  you  came  from.  Go,  I 
say,  or  I  shall  wake  the  whole  house.  I  shall  call 
the  police.  Go,  I  say — on  the  street ! " 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  "if  you  say  so  I  shall  go 
on  the  street,"  and  she  passed  out  of  the  door,  with 
a  tender  look  towards  Malke,  who  had  wakened  and 
did  not  understand  what  the  noise  meant.  Yankev, 
in  his  blind  rage,  threw  himself  upon  the  floor  ;  but 


EIVKA  DISCOVEES  AMERICA          215 

Samuel  followed  Eivka  through  the  door  which  she 
had  left  open. 

When  he  reached  the  street,  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  her  as  she  disappeared  in  the  throng  which  still 
filled  the  Bowery  ;  he  followed  her  quickly,  although 
with  little  hope  of  overtaking  her.  His  steps  led 
him  towards  Fourteenth  Street,  which  was  brilliantly 
illuminated,  and  thronged  by  people  just  coming 
from  the  theatres.  He  passed  crowds  of  well-dressed 
and  seemingly  happy  men  and  women.  At  the  Inter 
section  of  Broadway,  carriages,  automobiles,  and 
vehicles  of  all  sorts  crowded  each  other ;  while  the 
street  cars  swerved  with  amazing  swiftness  around 
the  corners  which  led  from  Broadway  to  Union 
Square. 

He  had  seen  Broadway  full  of  shoppers  and  work 
ers  in  eager  haste  ;  but  this  leisurely,  happy  throng 
was  new  to  him,  and  a  sense  of  real  wonder  filled 
him  as  for  a  moment  he  faced  the  giddy  stream,  then 
was  caught  by  it  and  carried  along  in  its  alluring 
current. 

The  music  which  came  floating  through  the  cur 
tained  windows  of  the  magnificent  restaurants,  the 
swift  beat  of  horses'  hoofs  upon  the  asphalt  pave 
ment,  the  opening  and  shutting  of  carriage  doors,  the 
throb  and  beat  of  automobiles,  accompanied  by  the 
sudden  blast  of  their  horns,  the  laughter  of  the  gay 
crowd,  the  dancing  and  gliding  letters  of  flame  which 
caught  his  vision  with  new  surprise  every  moment, 


216  THE  MEDIATOE 

drew  him  along  fascinated.  He  forgot  the  weariness 
of  his  body  and  the  import  of  his  quest. 

Little  by  little  his  eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the 
sights  and  sounds,  and  he  began  to  feel  himself  re 
lated  to  the  crowd  and  part  of  it,  this  solid  stream  of 
life  ;  gay,  happy,  and  thoughtless. 

He  wandered  as  far  as  Forty-second  Street  and 
then  back  again,  carried  along  as  by  a  flood.  Grad 
ually  he  became  conscious  of  the  units  which  com 
posed  this  mass. 

Men  and  women  walked  together,  most  of  them 
young  or  trying  to  appear  young,  and  seeing  in  each 
other's  eyes  more  light  and  life  than  the  street  re 
vealed  to  them.  Men  in  groups  or  sauntering  on 
alone,  and  women  alone,  attracted  his  attention,  espe 
cially  the  women.  They  had  smiles  for  everybody. 
They  did  not  speak  a  word  to  him  or  to  any  man, 
and  yet  he  understood,  immediately.  One  after  the 
other  they  passed  him,  as  weary  as  he,  yet  moving 
along  gaily.  Heavy-hearted,  no  doubt,  yet  smiling 
at  every  man,  whether  he  smiled  back  or  not.  They 
came  and  went,  casting  their  spell  around  him,  and 
he  felt  himself  borne  along,  his  brain  benumbed,  his 
soul  dumb  from  the  longing  for  love.  Nothing  seemed 
to  matter.  Eivka,  Malke,  the  terror  in  Russia,  even 
his  father — all  faded,  and  he  was  conscious  of  nothing 
but  his  desire  for  love.  Suddenly  one  woman,  bolder 
than  the  others,  came  close  to  him,  leering  up  into 
his  face.  Her  glance  stung  him  like  the  bite  of  an 


EIVKA  DISCOVEES  AMEEICA         217 

adder — and  the  spell  cast  over  him  was  broken.  His 
benumbed  brain  woke  to  action.  Again  he  felt  his 
physical  weariness,  and  the  wings  of  forgetfulness 
which  had  carried  him,  were  broken. 

Just  where  Twenty-third  Street  crosses  Broadway, 
he  leaned  wearily  against  a  huge  building  and  looked 
towards  the  mass  of  humanity  still  pouring  itself 
through  that  great  chasm  with  its  glowing  lights. 
They  came  and  went,  the  men  and  the  women ;  the 
men  who  walked  alone,  who  were  lured  and  who  were 
luring ;  and  then  the  women — the  women,  who 
walked  the  street  alone. 

There  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd  stood  one  of  them, 
not  knowing  whether  to  cast  herself  into  it  or  not. 
She  stood  upon  the  curbing,  then  she  moved  towards 
the  crossing,  and,  passing  over  it,  was  full  in  the  glare 
of  the  electric  light.  "Eivka,  Eivka ! "  Samuel 
called  ;  for  he  recognized  her  at  once.  The  clang  of 
the  street-cars  and  the  other  noises  drowned  his 
words.  His  tired  limbs  responded  to  the  effort  he 
made,  as  he  pushed  through  the  gay  throng  to  the 
curb  which  she  had  now  reached.  "Eivka! 
Eivka!"  he  called  again,  and  again  she  did  not 
hear ;  but,  looking  up,  saw  him  running  towards 
her  with  hands  outstretched  as  if  to  keep  her  from 
advancing.  She  stepped  backwards,  just  one  step 
over  the  curbing.  At  the  same  instant,  an  automo 
bile  whizzed  past  with  a  rush,  which  sounded  to  her 
like  the  roar  of  thunder ;  then  came  a  flash  of  light, 


218  THE  MEDIATOE 

filling  her  eyes,  penetrating  her  brain,  and  seeming 
to  set  it  on  fire.  Then  it  grew  silent  and  dark,  and 
although  Samuel  cried:  "Eivka!  Oh,  Eivka!" 
although  the  crowd  surged  around  them  both,  and 
although  the  gong  of  the  ambulance  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  all  remained  dark  and  silent  for  Eivka,  who 
lay  bruised  and  bleeding  in  Samuel's  arms. 


XX 
INCENSE  AND  CHLOROFORM 

OVEE  the  white  cots  which  lined  the  women's 
ward  of  the  hospital  hovered  the  light  of 
early  dawn,  revealing  in  ghastly  distinct 
ness  the  wreckage  wrought  upon  humanity  by  those 
ills  to  which  "the  flesh  is  heir."  White-capped 
Sisters  of  Charity  glided  to  and  fro,  sanctifying  and 
glorifying  by  their  self-forgetful  ministry  the  menial 
tasks  which  they  performed. 

The  room  seemed  silent ;  yet  it  was  full  of  sup 
pressed  groans  and  heavy  sighs,  which  the  patient 
nurses  tried  to  soothe  into  quiet.  The  noises  of  the 
city  came  muffled  through  the  windows,  partially 
closed  to  the  dampness  of  the  night ;  but  when  the 
sunlight  mingled  with  the  dawn  they  were  opened, 
and  the  spring  air  came  floating  in  buoyantly,  joy 
fully  almost,  eager  to  drive  out  the  "  winter  of  dis 
content,"  which  had  been  so  firmly  established  in 
many  a  heart,  dead  to  courage  and  hope. 

A  strange  new  odour  permeated  the  atmosphere, 
heavy  from  ether  and  iodoform — an  odour  which  was 
a  perfume,  and  which  grew  richer  and  stronger  each 
moment.  When  the  shielding  screens  were  with 
drawn  from  the  cots,  the  sufferers  saw  banks  of  grace 
ful  and  spotlessly  white  lilies  arranged  in  the  form 

219 


220  THE  MEDIATOR 

of  a  huge  cross  at  one  side  of  the  room.  Among  these 
were  pots  of  delicately  tinted,  pink  azaleas  and  roses, 
exquisite  in  their  colours  of  love  and  life. 

Sister  Beatrice  was  busy  with  the  tasks  of  the 
morning  at  the  bedside  of  her  patient,  Eivka,  who 
lay  there,  haggard  and  worn,  her  large  eyes  shining 
from  out  her  emaciated  face,  and  following  the  move 
ments  of  the  Sister  with  a  searching  glance. 

"  Good-morning,"  said  the  kindly  nurse,  when  she 
noticed  that  Eivka  was  awake. 

"Good-morning,"  murmured  Bivka,  who  found  it 
no  easy  task  to  summon  her  senses  from  the  entangle 
ment  into  which  they  had  fallen  through  the  delirium 
which  followed  her  accident — and  also  through  the 
frequent  use  of  opiates,  made  necessary  by  her  acute 
suffering. 

The  nurse  took  her  temperature,  administered 
medicine,  smoothed  the  linen  of  her  bed,  and  then 
brought  to  the  little  table  which  stood  by  it  a  tall  lily 
with  half-a-dozen  flowers  in  full  bloom.  Eivka' s 
eyes  rested  intently  upon  the  flowers,  and  she  asked  : 
"  Why  is  this?" 

"It's  Easter,"  the  Sister  answered.  "Don't  you 
know?  Easter.  Christus  voskresheni,"  (Christ  is 
risen)  she  said  in  Eussian. 

"  You  are  a  Eussian,  Sister  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  a  Pole,"  the  Sister  replied. 

"Then  we  are  enemies  ! "  said  Eivka  with  a  bitter 
smile. 


INCENSE  AND  CHLOEOFOEM  221 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  the  nurse. 

"You  are  a  Pole  and  I  am  a  Eussian — enemies. 
You  are  a  Christian,  I  am  a  Jewess — enemies — we  are 
all  enemies." 

"  No,  my  dear  child,"  Sister  Beatrice  said  tenderly, 
"  we  are  friends  ;  He  made  us  friends." 

"Who  made  us  friends  ?  "  Eivka  asked. 

"  Jesus  made  us  friends." 

A  cynical  smile  moved  over  Eivka' s  face,  and  she 
muttered :  "  Enemies,  He  made  us  enemies,  we  are 
all  enemies." 

"No,  dear  child,"  the  Sister  said  again,  tenderly, 
1  'we  are  all  friends.  This  is  our  Father's  house — no 
one  will  harm  you  here.  You  are  a  Eussian  Jewess 
and  I  am  a  Polish  Catholic  ;  but  I  am  your  friend  and 
your  servant  for  His  sake," — and  she  pointed  to  the 
crucifix  which  hung  from  her  girdle.  "  Now  be 
courageous  and  hopeful ;  because  this  is  the 
day " 

"The  day,"  Eivka  interrupted,  and  her  pale  face 
flushed  for  a  moment,  "the  day  in  which  I  am  to 
die?" 

"No,  we  hope  you  are  to  live,  the  doctor  will  make 
you  live.  A  doctor  of  your  own  faith,  brought  to 
you  by  your  friend  who  has  been  here  every  day." 
A  knowing  smile  flitted  over  the  unworldly  face  of 
the  Sister. 

Eivka' s  wan  face  lighted.  "  Has  he  really  come  ? 
How  happy  Samuel  must  be,"  she  said  to  herself. 


222  THE  MEDIATOR 

The  bells  of  the  hospital-chapel  rang  out  clearly, 
and  from  below  came  floating  through  the  vast  room 
the  solemn  but  joyous  strains  of  the  morning  Mass. 
Through  the  silent  corridor,  Samuel  came  with  his 
long-looked  for  friend,  Dr.  Eosnik.  Yaukev  was 
with  them.  He  had  haunted  the  hospital  the  four 
weeks  during  which  Eivka  had  hovered  between  life 
and  death,  awaiting  the  day  when  an  operation  would 
shift  the  weight  of  the  balances  one  way  or  the  other. 
Dr.  Eosnik,  who  had  come  to  America  as  the  oth 
ers  had  come,  driven  by  the  tempest  of  hate,  was  to 
assist  the  hospital  physicians,  adding  his  skill  and 
experience  to  theirs. 

"Smell  that!  Smell  that!"  Dr.  Eosnik  said  in 
his  old-time  cynical  way,  "  incense  and  chloroform  ! 
With  incense  the  Church  has  amputated  the  heads  of 
humanity,  and  with  chloroform  she  amputates  its 
legs.  She  saves  the  belly." 

11  Is  that  worth  saving  ?  "  Samuel  asked. 

"  Yes,  Samuel,  it  is,  if  they  would  keep  it  filled.  I 
tell  you,  Samuel,  an  empty  stomach  is  worse  than 
none.  I  know  something  about  it  now.  I  would 
have  given  I  don't  know  what,  if  I  could  have  had  a 
good  piece  of  stewed  meat  and  some  soup  on  board 
ship.  Samuel,  when  our  forefathers  went  out  of 
Egypt,  the  first  thing  they  missed  was  the  fleshpots 
— the  leeks  and  the  garlics.  We  Jews  have  an  his 
toric  appetite.  Now  they  want  to  go  back  to  Zion 
because — Yankev,  shall  I  tell  you  why?  Because 


INCENSE  AND  CHLOEOFOEM  223 

they  think  it  is  'flowing  with  milk  and  honey,'— tra 
la  la  la — milk  and  honey  t  Fiddlesticks  !  Tankev, 
when  you  go  back  to  Zion  you'd  better  take  over  a 
can  of  condensed  milk  and  a  loaf  of  sugar,  or  else 
you'll  drink  your  tea  without  them.  Tra  la  la  la  ! 
A  nice  job  you  have  kept  for  me,  Samuel,  a  Jewish 
sweatshop  girl,  poor  as  a  mouse.  "Whose  sweetheart 
is  she  anyway  ?  "  and  he  looked  teasingly  at  Yankev. 
"I  tell  you  what,  boys,  you  don't  need  to  quarrel 
about  who  is  going  to  get  her.  From  what  I've  seen 
of  her  and  from  what  I  know  must  be  done  to  her, 
you  may  each  have  a  part.  Now  one  of  you  go  up 
stairs  and  tell  the  Sister  that  I  am  ready.  I'll  be 
over  in  the  operating-room  with  the  other  doctors. 
Tra  la  la  la,"  and  he  left  them  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs. 

Both  the  men  went  up  to  the  women's  ward,  both 
passed  the  cross  of  lilies  which  flanked  the  white- 
sheeted  cote,  and  both  stood  by  Eivka's  bed — one  at 
one  side  and  one  at  the  other.  They  looked  at  her 
drawn  face,  so  full  of  pain  and  suffering,  and  tears 
filled  their  eyes.  Yankev,  unable  to  control  his 
emotion,  sobbed  aloud.  Eivka  heard  him,  and, 
opening  her  eyes,  said  :  "  I  am  going  on  the  street, 
Yankev — as  you  told  me  to.  It  is  a  muddy  street ; 
the  mud  is  very  deep,  and  I  am  sinking  in  it.  Good 
bye,  Yankev — it  is  a  muddy  street,  the  mud  is  very 
deep — the  lights  are  like  little  dancing  glowworms 
and  I  don't  know  which  way  to  go — go  home, 


224  THE  MEDIATOE 

Yankev,  to  your  clean,  respectable  home  on  Biving- 
ton  Street ;  while  I  go  on  the  muddy  street." 

"Bivka,"  Yankev  cried  and  grasped  her  hands, 
"  forgive  me,  forgive  me  !  Don't  send  me  away !  I 
want  to  stay  here,  I  want  to  be  with  you.  Forgive 
me !  I  was  mad  from  jealousy  and  I  didn't  know 
what  I  was  saying.  Eivka,  I  have  suffered,  oh,  how 
I  have  suffered!"  and  groaning  he  fell  upon  his 
knees  by  the  cot. 

Sister  Beatrice,  who  had  heard  Yankev' s  outcry, 
came  protectingly  between  her  patient  and  the  ex 
cited  man. 

Bivka's  eyes  turned  towards  Samuel,  who,  seated 
by  her  side,  was  looking  intently  into  her  face,  as  if 
trying  to  penetrate  the  depths  of  her  suffering,  that 
he  might  heal  her. 

11  Samuel,"  she  said,  her  hand  seeking  his,  "  I  was 
on  the  muddy  street." 

"  Yes,  Bivka,  I  know  you  were,  and  so  was  I." 

"  Samuel,  I  fell  in  the  mud  and  the  slush,  and  was 
bruised." 

"  Yes,  Bivka,  you  fell  in  the  mud  ;  but  you  were 
not  soiled." 

"  You  believe  that  I  was  not  soiled,  Samuel  ?  "  A 
bright  and  grateful  smile  lighted  her  face. 

"Yes,  Bivka,  I  believe  it,  I  know  it.  I  know, 
too,  how  slippery  it  is,  for  I  also  nearly  fell ;  but  oh  ! 
Bivka,  you  are  hurt,  and  it  is  my  fault !" 

"  Yes,  Samuel,  it  is  your  fault  that  I  am  hurt,  but 


INCENSE  AND  CHLOEOFOEM  225 

it  is  also  your  fault  that  I  was  not  soiled  by  the  mud. 
Samuel,"  and  her  hands  pressed  his,  "Samuel,  I  am 
going  to  die  ;  but  it  is  better  to  die  here  than  in  the 
mud.  Oh  !  there  is  just  one  place  where  I'd  rather 
die  than  on  this  white  bed,  just  one  place,  and  that 
is  St.  Petersburg,  on  the  banks  of  the  Neva.  There, 
where  the  soil  is  red  from  the  blood  of  the  patriots, 
there  I  should  love  to  die.  Have  you  any  news  from 
Eussia,  Samuel?" 

"Yes,  Eivka,  Kulchovsky  is  dead." 

The  blood  mounted  to  her  face,  joy  flushed  her 
cheeks  as  she  cried  :  1 1  Killed  by  Sasha  Federovna  t ' ' 

"Yes." 

"I  knew  she  would  do  it !  I  knew  she  would  do 
it !  She  will  die  on  the  banks  of  the  Neva  !  Oh, 
what  a  glorious  death  !  Yankev,"  and  she  turned  to 
her  sorrowing  lover,  "  go  home.  Good-bye,  Yankev, 
I  thank  you  for  your  love  and  your  sacrifice,  but  go. 
I  must  go  on  the  street." 

She  sank  back,  her  face  as  white  as  the  pillow 
upon  which  it  rested.  "I  must  go  on  the  muddy 
street.  Go,  Yankev."  Yankev  still  knelt  by  her 
cot,  clutching  the  iron  rail  with  both  hands  as  if  to 
resist  forcible  removal. 

Sister  Beatrice  came  and  whispered  to  Eivka. 

"Yes,  Sister,  yes,  Sister,  tell  them  to  go,  make  me 
ready ;  we  are  not  enemies,  we  are  friends.  Yes, 
make  me  ready.  Samuel,  I  am  to  be  made  ready  for 
death.  I  wanted  to  die — for  Eussia — now  I  want  to 


226  THE  MEDIATOE 

live.  Oh  !  it's  cruel,  fearfully  cruel !  the  pain  !  the 
agony  !  the  death  !  It  all  looks  so  dark,  so  terrible ! " 

1  'No,  Eivka,"  Samuel  said,  "it  is  not  terrible,  it 
is  beautiful.  I  have  been  near  it,  as  near  as  one  can 
be  and  yet  live.  Eivka,  it  is  not  terrible,  it  is  sub 
lime." 

"  Is  it  a  land  of  friends,  Samuel!  Like  Eosenfelt 
and  the  Bowery  and  Broadway  ?  Samuel,  is  it  a  land 
of  friends?  Yes,  I  know,  Samuel.  I  was  only  at  the 
edge  of  it,  just  at  the  edge  of  it.  One  night,  Samuel, 
I  was  in  America  and  it  was  terrible  as  death,  ah 
— ah — ah — terrible  as  death,"  she  groaned  aloud. 
"Ah!  terrible  as  death!  When  you  found  me, 
Samuel,  it  was  more  awful  than  death." 

Noiselessly  a  chair  was  wheeled  to  the  cot,  and, 
when  Eivka  saw  it,  she  said  in  a  startled  voice, 
"  Look,  Samuel,  the  ship  which  is  to  carry  me  to  the 
land  of  friends.  Oh !  Samuel,  I  am  afraid.  Hold 
me,  hold  [me  in  your  arms,  Samuel,  you  are  good. 
Oh  !  I  wanted  to  be  good,  but  I  hadn't  time  to  think 
about  it.  I  have  been  getting  ready  for  death  these 
ten  years,  and  never  thought  about  being  good.  I 
was  so  busy,  there  was  so  much  to  do.  The  people 
were  so  ignorant,  so  poor — so  ignorant,  so  poor,"  she 
repeated.  "Oh!  Samuel,  you  make  me  feel  that  I 
want  to  be  good.  Hold  me,  hold  me  tight,  keep 
death  away  !  Tell  me,  how  do  you  know  that  death 
isn't  terrible?  Tell  me,  Samuel  1 "  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  him  pleadingly. 


INCENSE  AND  CHLOEOFOEM  227 

"  Eivka,  I'll  tell  you.  There  was  once  a  man  who 
was  always  busy,  as  busy  as  you  were — helping  the 
people  who  were  ignorant  and  poor  and  sick.  The 
rulers  condemned  Him  and  crucified  Him,  and  then 
they  buried  Him ;  but  He  rose  from  the  grave." 

From  the  chapel  below  came  the  vibrant  notes  of 
the  organ  and  the  sweet  voices  of  the  choir.  Christw 
Eesurrector — Christus  - — 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  said  Eivka.  "An  old  woman's 
tale."  She  sank  back  upon  her  pillow.  "Some 
more  'land  of  friends.'  Now  go,  both  of  you!  I 
am  ready,  sister.  .Good-bye,  Yankev,  good-bye,  my 
Zionistic  sheep." 

Yankev  rose,  crying  :  "  Eivka,  forgive  me,  for 
give  me !" 

' '  Nothing  to  forgive,  Yankev.  Eemember  me  when 
you  drink  the  milk  and  suck  the  honey  of  Zion.  A 
prosperous  journey  to  you.  Good-bye,  Samuel,"  and 
her  hands  went  out  to  him.  "I  am  going  to  the 
land  of  friends." 

"  Eivka,  you  are  not  going  to  die.  Dr.  Eosnik 
will  make  you  well." 

"Samuel,  do  you  remember  when  we  came  into 
New  York  harbour  I " 

"Yes,  Eivka,  how  beautiful  it  was  !" 

"For  you,  but  not  for  me.  I  knew  better.  'The 
land  of  friends,'  ha,  ha !  Mr.  Eosenfelt.  '  Yoost 
my  luck  ! '  '  Yoost  my  luck  I '  Now  you  must  both 
go — good-bye." 


228  THE  MEDIATOE 

Yankev  rushed  down  the  stairs,  in  piteous  despera 
tion  ;  while  Samuel  lingered  in  the  corridor  where 
the  odours  of  incense  and  chloroform  mingled.  He 
was  drawn  by  the  incense,  and  following  it  to  the 
chapel  below,  stood  by  the  open  door,  looking  long 
ingly  in  at  the  officiating  priest,  who  was  elevating 
the  Host.  Like  a  flash,  there  came  to  him  the  vision 
of  an  Easter  day  in  the  long  ago,  when  he  had  stood 
beside  the  open  door  of  the  chapel  in  Kunova,  watch 
ing  Father  Antonius  with  longing  eyes. 

"Hoc  est  enim  corpus  meim." 

Unnoticed  he  stole  into  the  chapel  and  fell  upon 
his  knees.  The  nuns  had  prostrated  themselves  in 
adoration  before  the  uplifted  Host ;  incense  and  chlo 
roform  mingled  in  the  air,  soothing  Samuel's  over 
taxed  nerves.  He  sank  into  a  wearied  stupor,  and 
when  he  awoke,  the  notes  of  the  organ  were  echoing 
in  his  ears,  and  the  Sisters  were  silently  passing  from 
their  mountain-top  of  vision  to  their  tasks  in  the 
valley  of  suffering.  Then  came  the  priest.  Samuel 
started  ;  was  he  dreaming  ?  Could  it  be  possible  that 
he  was  really  back  in  Kunova,  and  was  this  the  long 
ecstasy  of  childhood  ?  Was  the  pain  which  he  felt 
only  a  reaction  ?  This  priest,  in  the  garb  of  a  Do 
minican  monk,  bowed  by  the  heaviness  of  years,  his 
face  still  radiant  and  sweet,  was  like  that  priest  of 
long  ago,  who  had  opened  the  gates  of  heaven  or 
unbarred  the  depths  of  hell — Samuel  knew  not 
which. 


INCENSE  AND  CHLOEOFOEM  229 

He  could  think  nothing  more  ;  for  scarcely  had  he 
cried  :  "  Father  Antonius ! "  than  they  were  clasped 
in  one  another's  arms  and  were  looking  into  each 
other's  tear-dimmed  eyes. 


MORE  "  MACKES  " 

Y  I  Oy  !  Oy  !  What  a  place,  what  a 
place  !  "  an  old  man  groaned  as  he  turned 
from  the  avenue  into  one  of  the  most 
crowded  streets  of  the  Ghetto.  "Mine  enemies 
should  have  to  find  a  number  in  a  street  as  long  as 
the  whole  district  of  Kottowin  ! ' '  Wearily  he  turned 
to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  crossing  and  recrossing 
the  street,  searching  every  doorway  for  its  number  ; 
while  he  slowly  moved  from  block  to  block.  The 
burden  of  years  was  heavy  upon  him,  he  was  bent 
nearly  double,  his  large  head  shook  as  from  palsy 
and  he  lifted  his  feet  wearily,  groaning  at  every  step. 

His  presence  in  the  street  excited  no  comment  and 
his  groans  elicited  no  sympathy  ;  for  that  locality 
was  full  of  his  kind.  These  aged  ones  were  like  up 
rooted  oaks  transplanted  to  an  uncongenial  climate, 
and  fastlosing  their  remaining  vigour  in  the  strange 
soil  of  this  new  continent. 

At  last  the  old  man,  after  having  searched  six  long 
blocks  for  it,  found  the  number  :  617.  He  entered 
the  dark  hall  and  began  climbing  the  stairs  to  the 
topmost  storey,  groaning  continually,  and  often  stop 
ping  to  draw  his  scant  measure  of  breath. 

230 


MOEE  "MACKES"  231 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  two  weeks  after  Easter, 
and  the  dwellers  in  the  tenements  had  not  yet  stirred. 
This  Christian  Sunday  was  to  them  the  Sabbath — 
their  own  seventh  day  being  nearly  blotted  out  of  the 
calendar  of  these  East-side  Jews  as  well  as  from  that 
of  all  Jewry  in  America. 

"  Eeb  Abraham  I  That  can't  be  you  I  Well,  well, 
well !  Glad  to  see  you  !  Nu,  nu !  Did  you  ever  !  " 

The  barber  called  out  one  ejaculation  after  the 
other,  as  he  opened  the  door  in  answer  to  the  old 
man's  knock. 

"Sit  down,  Eeb  Abraham,  sit  down  1  Nu,  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you  !  Put  down  that  bag.  Tell  me 
how  are  you,  and  where  have  you  been?  " 

"  Oy,  oy  !  Mine  enemies  should  get  along  the  way 
I  did  !  Ts,  ts  !  An  old  man  like  me,  such  an  old 
man  as  I  am  they  send  to  Chicago  !  "When  I  came 
there  they  put  me  to  work  in  a  sweat-shop — could  you 
believe  it!  In  a  sweat-shop  I  I  could  no  more  run 
a  sewing-machine  than  I  could  run  a  locomotive ! 
Oy,  oy  !  I  didn't  see  a  page  of  the  Talmud  all  the 
time  I  was  in  Chicago  !  A  trepha  (unclean)  trepha 
town !  They  kill  more  swine  there  in  a  day  than 
they  have  killed  in  Kottowin  from  the  time  of  the 
great  Cholera  until  now." 

While  he  spoke,  his  eyes  were  nervously  searching 
for  something,  and  he  listened  intently  to  the  sounds 
of  deep  breathing  which  came  from  an  adjoining 
room.  He  only  half  heard,  when  the  barber  said  : 


232  THE  MEDIATOR 

"Beb  Abraham,  in  this  country  the  Talmud  has 
as  much  chance  as  a  tallow  candle.  Who  wants  tal 
low  candles  when  you  need  only  to  touch  a  button 
and  you  have  more  light  than  ever  shone  out  of  all 
the  tallow  candles  in  creation?  Your  Talmud  is  a 
back  number,  a  tallow  candle." 

"You  were  always  a  heathen,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "What  have  your  books  and  your  novels 
done  ?  They  weaned  my  son  from  his  faith,  they  cor 
rupted  our  whole  community,  and  you  are  fyere  like 
the  rest  of  the  Jews,  making  clothes.  What  comfort 
do  you  get  out  of  your  poetry  and  your  philosophy  ?  " 

"Beb  Abraham,"  replied  the  barber;  "if  you 
weren't  such  an  old  man  I  would  say  what  I  said  to 
you  a  great  many  years  ago.  You  are  an  old  fogy  ! 
Forgive  me,  will  you?  It  wasn't  my  novels  or  my 
poetry  that  drove  your  son  from  you.  It  was  your 
musty  old  Talmud.  That  son  of  yours  is  the  finest 
boy  who  ever  grew  up  in  Kottowin,  and  he  might 
now  be  a  light  in  Israel  if  you  hadn't  crammed  his 
head  so  full  of  dead,  dull  stuff  and  nonsense,  that  his 
brain  rebelled  against  it,  just  as  the  stomach  rebels 
if  you  feed  it  on  rubbish  !  As  for  my  poetry,  Beb 
Abraham,  I  wouldn't  sell  you  what  I  have  in  my 
heart  for  all  the  money  of  the  Bothschilds.  Beb 
Abraham,  when  I  sit  by  my  sewing-machine  and  it 
goes  whirr  !  whirr !  It  sounds  to  me  like  music — 
— sweet  music  !  Do  you  hear  those  elevated  trains 
— bang,  bang,  bang!  I  don't  hear  the  bang — to  me 


MOKE  "MACKES"  233 

if  s  music,  while  to  you  it  is  only  noise.  Listen,  Eeb 
Abraham,  what  my  machine  told  me  yesterday  af 
ternoon.  Now,  listen !  This  is  not  trepha  poetry, 
it's  kosher. 

"  '  Ton  are  mine,  oh  !  servant  of  flesh  and  bone, 

Though  I  am  bat  wood  and  steel ; 
I  own  you  my  servant  of  mind  and  soul, 
Though  I  am  but  a  rod  and  a  wheel.' 

Then,  Beb  Abraham,  while  I  was  stitching  away, 
I  talked  to  my  machine,  and  I  said : 

" 4  You  own  me  ?    Oh  !  master  of  wood  and  steel  ? 

You  may  own  my  flesh  and  my  bone, 
You  own  not  my  feelings,  you  own  not  my  heart, 
For  master  / am  and  servant  thou  art.' 

Eeb  Abraham,  America  without  poetry  is  like  hell 
without  a  visit  from  Dante.  You  don't  know  who 
Dante  was,  do  you,  Eeb  Abraham?  So  much  the 
worse  for  you  I" 

"  Oy,  oy  1 "  The  old  man  groaned.  "  America ! 
I  wish  I  had  never  seen  America  !  Here  every  Jew 
is  an  apostate,  every  child  turns  against  its  father's 
faith ;  they  grow  up  like  the  heathen !  I  asked  a 
boy  in  Chicago  where  I  boarded,  what  we  do  on  the 
Day  of  Atonement,  and  he  said  :  '  We  eat  unleavened 
bread!'  Don't  laugh,  man,  don't  laugh  !  The  Day 
of  Atonement — I  have  had  a  long  day  of  it !  Since 
my  sainted  wife  died  till  now  it  has  been  one 
long  Day  of  Atonement!"  Sighing  deeply,  he 
looked  longingly  at  the  closed  door  on  the  other  side 


234  THE  MEDIATOR 

of  the  room,  and  asked  hesitatingly — "  Is  he  there — 
my  apostate  son  I " 

"  No,  Eeb  Abraham,  he  left  here  about  ten  min 
utes  before  you  came.  He  went  to  the  hospital  to 
see  a  sick  girl." 

"  A  girl  1 "  The  old  man  cried ;  great  anxiety  in 
his  voice.  ' '  Is  she  one  of  us  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed ! "  The  barber  replied.  "She  is  a 
Eussian  girl." 

"Thank  God  !"  Abraham  exclaimed,  almost  joy 
fully.  "  Then  my  son  is  not  worshipping  the  images 
any  more ;  thank  God  !  Now  tell  me  all  about 
him." 

"Yes,  Eeb  Abraham;  but  you  are  tired  and 
hungry.  Lie  down  on  the  sofa  first,  and  I'll  bring 
you  a  cup  of  coffee.  Then  you'll  see  some  more 
Kottowiners  !  There  are  several  of  them  right  here. 
Dr.  Eosnik  is  getting  up  now.  '  How  are  the  mighty 
fallen  ! '  Eeb  Abraham.  To  think  that  I  should  be 
boarding  Dr.  Eosnik !  A  man  who  lived  in  a  palace. 
And  his  son,  Sigismund — the  Herr  Von  Sigismund  ! 
— He  boards  here  too." 

From  the  next  room  they  could  hear  Dr.  Eosnik' s 
"Tra  la  la,"  while  he  noisily  performed  his  ablu 
tions.  After  a  short  time  he  appeared  and  cordially 
greeted  his  old  acquaintance. 

"It's  good  to  see  you,  Eeb  Abraham  !  Nu,  you 
have  travelled  far  in  your  old  days,  and  suffered 
much;  but,  Eeb  Abraham,  you  have  one  great 


MOEE  "MACKES"  235 

blessing  left  you  in  your  son.  Such  a  boy  can't  be 
found  in  all  New  York.  He  is  like  gold.  My 
Sigismund,  compared  with  your  son,  is  like — what 
shall  I  say?  Like  unbuttered  potatoes  compared 
with  Sabbath  beans.  Yes,  he  is  a  great  boy.  He 
is  hungry  to  see  you,  Eeb  Abraham ;  he  is  eat 
ing  his  heart  out  to  see  you.  When  he  comes,  love 
him,  love  him !  The  boy  is  almost  dying  from  the 
want  of  your  love.  Don't  let  a  few  drops  of  baptis 
mal  water  keep  you  two  apart." 

"But,  Dr.  Eosnik,"  the  old  man  asked  anxiously, 
"does  he  look  like  a  priest!  Is  his  head  shaved f 
Does  he  wear  a  cross  t " 

"  Nonsense ! "  replied  the  doctor,  sipping  his 
coffee  and  smoking  his  cigarette.  "Nonsense!  Eeb 
Abraham.  He  looks  like  Joseph  the  son  of  Jacob, 
when  he  was  in  prison  in  Egypt ;  just  such  a  boy 
and  just  as  kosher.  Now,  no  more  nonsense" — as 
the  old  man  began  to  groan.  "  Let  bygones  be  by 
gones.  You  have  nobody  in  the  world  but  this  son. 
I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do  ;  we'll  surprise  him.  I 
am  going  to  the  hospital  after  dinner  and  you  must 
come  too.  Sigismund  will  come  also.  You  know 
Sigismund,  don't  you?" 

Although  the  Ghetto  did  not  observe  the  Sabbath 
from  any  religious  motive,  it  imitated  in  external 
things  the  great  Christian  world  across  the  Bowery. 
It  brought  out  its  fineries  and  its  spring  millinery, 


236  THE  MEDIATOE 

which  it  flaunted  on  Houston  Street,  even  as  the 
more  fashionable  world  displayed  its  purple  and  fine 
linen  on  Fifth  Avenue,  across  the  great  financial 
chasm.  Its  streets  and  avenues  were  full  of  men  and 
women,  warming  themselves  in  the  mellow  sunshine, 
and  critically  surveying  each  other's  costumes.  In 
this  last  respect  the  Ghetto  could  give  Fifth  Avenue 
valuable  instruction  ;  for  it  knew  the  wholesale  price 
of  the  goods  displayed,  it  knew  the  shoddy  article 
from  the  genuine,  and  it  had  an  eye  keen  enough  to 
distinguish  paste  diamonds  from  real  ones. 

Eeb  Abraham,  Dr.  Eosnik  and  his  son,  Sigismund, 
walked  on  Avenue  B,  away  from  the  squalor  of  the 
Ghetto,  and  uptown  towards  the  hospital  on  Eleventh 
Street.  Dr.  Eosnik  still  bore  marks  of  the  old  world 
in  his  dress,  to  which  he  clung  somewhat  tenaciously. 
His  manner  also  was  unchanged.  He  was  smoking 
a  cigarette,  and  every  few  minutes  he  would  stop  in 
his  walk  and  rap  nervously  with  his  gold-headed 
cane  against  an  iron  railing,  which  led  into  some 
basement  or  cellar ;  while  his  tantalizing  tra  la  la 
was  in  continual  evidence.  His  son,  now  twenty- 
four  years  of  age,  was  fresh  from  the  University  of 
Vienna,  where  he  had  gone  to  finish  his  medical 
education.  He  had  failed  in  his  examinations,  and 
had  returned  to  Kottowin  just  before  the  fatal  po 
grom,  the  brutalities  of  which  had  caused  the  death 
of  his  mother,  and  sent  him  and  his  father  to  America. 
He  possessed  none  of  his  father's  ruggedness,  but  he 


MORE  "MACKES"  237 

had  great  suavity  of  manner.  His  dress,  down  to  the 
yellow,  broad-soled  shoes,  was  already  adjusted  to 
the  spring  styles  of  New  York.  Life  and  its  burdens 
rested  lightly  upon  him,  for  he  had  early  learned  to 
cast  them  upon  the  broad  shoulders  of  his  father. 
He  quickly  penetrated  into  the  mysteries  of  American 
life,  knew  where  to  buy  imported  Russian  cigarettes, 
where  the  best  vaudeville  performances  were  given, 
and  already  preferred  poker  to  clabrias,  the  game  of 
the  Vienna  coffee-houses. 

"  Papa,"  Sigismund  drawled  sarcastically  ;  he  had 
inherited  his  father's  talent  for  biting  speech. 
"This  is  your  Palestine  that  your  eyes  wanted  to 
behold.  Now  behold." 

"  Sigismund,"  his  father  answered,  imitating  his 
drawl,  "if  you  knew  anything  about  the  Bible  you 
would  know  that  you  really  are  in  Palestine.  Even 
in  Jerusalem  there  couldn't  have  been  any  more  Jews 
together  than  there  are  in  New  York.  And  King 
Solomon  and  all  his  wives  could  not  have  been  ar 
rayed  any  more  gorgeously  than  are  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Solomon  Isaacson  of  Houston  Street.  I  have  seen 
more  diamonds  in  the  last  five  minutes  than  King 
Solomon  saw  in  all  his  life.  The  Queen  of  Sheba 
would  have  turned  up  her  nose  at  him,  I  am  sure,  if 
he  had  looked  half  as  vulgar  as  Mr.  Solomon  Isaacson 
looks. ' '  Then  the  doctor  beat  his  cane  against  a  lamp 
post,  and,  puffing  at  his  cigarette,  said:  "Nu,  Reb 
Abraham,  where  are  your  thoughts?  With  your 


238  THE  MEDIATOE 

son?  So  I  supposed.  Nu,  he  is  worth  thinking 
about.  He  is  a  golden  son,  yes,  a  golden  son — but  he 
is  working  his  fingers  off.  He  will  yet  be  something 
great.  He  isn't  like  my  Sigismund,  who  cares  only 
to  play  the  gentleman  and  never  wants  to  work." 
Sigismund  removed  his  eyes  for  a  moment  from  the 
young  women  on  whom  they  had  been  fastened. 

"Work,  that's  all  they  think  about,  these 
Americans !  They  want  me  to  work  too — ine,  a 
graduate  of  the  Vienna  University  1 " 

"  My  son,  you  are  a  graduate  of  Vienna ;  but  not 
of  the  University,"  his  father  interrupted  him. 
"  You  know  all  that  the  city  of  Vienna  could  teach 
you  ;  but  of  medicine  you  know  only  enough  to  keep 
yourself  from  going  to  the  devil  too  quickly.  You're 
going  there,  eins,  zwei,  drei  ! "  and  he  beat  the  time 
on  an  iron  lamp-post.  "  A  somewhat  slow  tempo,  but 
growing  faster  all  the  time.  Only,  my  son,  remem 
ber,  that  over  here  you'll  have  to  go  to  hell  at  your 
own  expense.  Your  father  is  nearly  bankrupt. 
The  only  case  I  have  had  besides  Eivka  and  Malke 
is  Mr.  Eosenfelt's  precious  Eosalie,  who  is  suffering 
from — nervousness,  they  call  it  over  here ;  in  Poland 
we  would  call  it  stomach-ache.  She  devours  candy 
by  the  pound  ;  she  doesn't  chew  it,  she  just  swallows 
it  as  a  boa-constrictor  swallows  rabbits.  Mr.  Eosen- 
felt  paid  me  fifty  cents  for  three  visits.  He  said : 
'I  gets  eferytink  at  'olesale  brice.'  Oy,  oy,  oy ! 
That's  the  way  with  the  Jews.  Look  at  those  push- 


MOEE  "M ACRES"  239 

cart  peddlers ;  they  have  a  tough  job,  I  tell  you ; 
they  too  have  to  sell  everything  at  wholesale.  Oy, 
oy,  oy  !  A  Jewish  customer — the  Lord  deliver  us 
from  him  !" 

In  the  meantime,  Samuel  had  been  at  the  hospital, 
where  he  found  Eivka  recovering  very  quickly,  and 
in  even  less  danger  of  being  permanently  crippled 
than  Dr.  Eosnik  had  anticipated.  What  had  drawn 
him  there  so  frequently,  however,  was  not  Eivka, 
for  whom  he  had  only  the  loyal  feeling  of  a  comrade 
— but  Father  Antonius,  who  was  chaplain  of  the 
hospital,  and  the  one  link  which  bound  him  to  a 
tragic  and  an  eventful  past 

"My  son,"  said  Father  Antonius  to  Samuel  as 
they  sat  together  in  the  father's  room  after  Mass. 
"The  girl  is  recovering;  but  you  give  me  great 
cause  for  anxiety.  You  look  worn  and  sad,  and  no 
wonder.  You  are  here  early  in  the  morning  and  late 
at  night,  after  working  like  a  slave  all  day.  You 
will  have  to  take  care." 

"  Don't  worry,  Father  Autonius,  I  am  in  no  danger. 
My  body  is  all  right ;  it's  tough.  As  for  the  early 
rising  and  the  hard  work,  you  know  I  am  used  to 
those  things.  What  wears  me  out,  is  not  the  hard 
work,  but  this  continual  conflict  within  me,  this 
fighting  in  the  dark  against  these  giants  struggling 
for  my  soul.  Oh,  Father  Antonius !  I  envy  you 
your  peace !  If  I  but  had  my  peace  again !  My 
peace.!" 


240  THE  MEDIATOE 

"My  dear  son,"  the  monk  said  tenderly;  "  my 
dear  son,  I  wish  I  could  bestow  it  upon  you — but 
conflict  is  the  lot  of  some  of  us.  I  too  have  my 
struggles,  which  God  alone  witnesses.  He  helps. 
Oh,  my  son  !  '  Cast  your  burden  on  the  Lord.'  " 

"On  the  Lord,  Father ? "  Samuel  repeated,  doubt 
in  every  tone.  "  I  am  doubly  orphaned.  I  am  cast 
off  in  heaven  and  on  earth.  I  can't  pray  any  more 
— it  sounds  like  mockery  to  me.  I  come  here  hungry 
for  peace,  and  I  go  away  with  the  contest  still  raging. 
The  Mass  !  Oh,  Father  ! "  He  leaned  his  head  upon 
the  monk's  shoulder.  "  Oh,  Father,  the  Mass ! 
How  its  mysteries  used  to  soothe  me — how  near  to 
God  I  felt  1  Now,  every  time  I  seethe  elevated  Host, 
I  hear  myself  accused,  my  whole  race  damned  by 
Him  who  long  ago  cried :  '  Forgive  them,  for  they 
know  not  what  they  do.'  To-day  I  came  here  so 
weary,  I  thought  I  should  find  rest  and  peace.  What 
a  comfort  the  old  Psalms  were — and  the  hymns — but 
the  Gospel  1  Father  Antonius,  who  put  all  that 
hatred  of  the  Jews  into  the  Gospel!  Who  did  it? 
It's  horrible  !  I  hate  those  that  crucified  Him,  I  hate 
my  own  flesh  and  blood,  and  then  I  hate  Him,  the 
cause  of  it  all !— That  Christ ! " 

Unstrung  and  wretched  as  Samuel  was,  he  sobbed 
like  a  little  child ;  while  Father  Antonius  vainly 
tried  to  comfort  him. 

"  If  I  could  only  really  hate  that  Christ ! "  Samuel 
cried.  "If  I  could  but  forget  His  loveliness!  If  I 


MOEE  "MACKES"  241 

could  persuade  myself  that  He  is  dead,  a  dead  traitor  to 
His  people  !  But,  Father  Antonius,  I  feel  Him  every 
moment,  in  every  breath  I  breathe  !  I  can't  think  of 
God,  of  life,  of  love,  of  anything  good,  without  Him  ! 
He  is  the  source  of  everything  that  is  pure  and  holy 
within  me  1  When  I  think  evil  thoughts  it  is  He 
who  chides  me  and  keeps  me  from  temptation !  If 
there  were  only  a  way  back !  If  I  could  only  flee 
from  His  spirit,  I'd  go  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth !  If  I  could  only  hate  Him  and  forget  Him, 
and  forget  my  past  as  well !  " 

Great,  heart-breaking  sobs  wrung  themselves  from 
Samuel's  breast ;  for  he  did  not  weep  easily.  The 
fourteen  years  in  the  monastery  had  sealed  the  foun 
tains  of  emotion — and  each  tear,  as  it  fell  upon  the 
white  robe  of  Father  Antonius,  was  like  a  blood-drop 
drawn  from  some  deep,  hidden  vein. 

Then,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  weakness,  Samuel  rose, 
and,  repressing  his  unwonted  agitation,  said :  "I 
must  forget — I  will  forget — for  my  father's  sake. 
Let  me  go,  Father  Antonius !  Let  me  go  ! "  He 
unwound  himself  from  the  restraining  arms  of  his 
spiritual  father,  who,  alas !  could  not  comfort  him  ; 
for  he,  too,  was  in  the  midst  of  a  great  struggle, 
whose  end  was  not  yet. 

When  Samuel  left  the  hospital  he  turned  his  face 
towards  the  East  Side.  He  walked  along  the  mo 
notonous  stretches  of  streets,  pushing  his  way  mechan 
ically  through  the  crowds ;  while  in  his  soul  a  battle 


242  THE  MEDIATOE 

raged,  in  which  the  flesh  fought  the  spirit  5  in  which 
an  entire  race  struggled  with  one  lonely  individual, 
and  in  which  six  thousand  years  of  history  were 
beating  against  the  experience  of  one  young  soul. 
Suddenly,  Samuel  became  conscious  of  an  unusual 
commotion  in  the  street.  A  great  crowd  had  congre 
gated  at  the  corner  of  Avenue  A,  where  the  walls  of 
brick  and  stones  ended,  and  an  oasis  of  grass  and 
trees  gave  breathing  space  to  these  dwellers  in  tene 
ments. 

At  the  edge  of  the  park  he  saw  a  curious  looking 
vehicle  upon  which  were  numerous  posters  bearing 
verses  from  the  Bible,  written  in  Hebrew  letters. 
On  one  flaunting  banner  he  read  :  "  This  is  He  of 
whom  Moses  and  the  prophets  did  write,"  and  on 
another  one  :  "  And  as  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent 
in  the  wilderness,  even  so  must  the  Son  of  man  be 
lifted  up."  Still  another  bore  the  words :  "With 
out  the  shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission  of 
sins." 

Two  men  stood  in  the  waggon.  One,  a  small,  dark- 
haired,  nervous-looking  Jew,  in  a  sort  of  semi-clerical 
dress.  He  was  nervously  biting  his  moustache,  evi 
dently  trying  hard  to  compose  himself.  The  other 
man  was  large  and  portly  ;  his  features  were  firm, 
and  he  looked  at  the  crowd  smilingly,  as  if  wishing 
to  make  friends  with  it.  His  eyes  were  large,  and  of 
that  peculiar  dark  gray,  which  borders  on  blue.  They 
were  kind  eyes  and  recalled  to  Samuel  the  beautiful 


MOEE  "MACKES"  243 

woman  on  shipboard — the  woman  who  now  came  to 
him  in  his  dreams,  but  who  had  passed  completely 
from  his  waking  hours ;  the  woman  who  had  made 
his  entrance  into  America  so  beautiful.  This  cer 
tainly  was  her  father — Bruce,  that  was  his  name,  and 
hers  was  Jane  Bruce. 

Samuel  could  not  come  close  to  the  waggon,  for  it 
was  surrounded  by  the  angry  crowd  which  was  fast 
growing  into  a  mob.  The  missionary,  still  viciously 
biting  his  moustache,  lifted  up  his  voice,  which  was 
but  faintly  heard  by  the  excited  people. 

"  We  have  come  here,  my  friends,  to  tell  you  that 
the  Messiah  of  whom  the  prophets  did  write,  has 
come " 

"  We  don't  want  to  hear  about  Him,"  the  crowd 
called  out,  as  if  it  were  the  voice  of  one  man.  "  He 
is  no  Messiah,  He  was  a  traitor  to  His  people !  " 

"His  name  wus "  the  missionary  began,  and 

again  the  crowd  roared  its  displeasure  in  an  inarticu 
late  wave  of  sound,  through  which  Samuel  dis 
tinguished  the  words':  ' '  Get  out  of  this ! "  "  Come 
off,"  "  You' re  a  traitor,"  "  How  much  did  you  get 
for  being  baptized1?" 

Closer  and  closer,  with  menacing  gestures  the 
crowd,  taking  Samuel  with  it,  pressed  and  surged 
around  the  waggon.  Then  the  man  whom  he  recog 
nized  as  Mr.  Bruce,  came  to  the  front,  and,  standing 
between  the  missionary  and  the  crowd,  called  out : 
"  I  am  an  American,  and  this  is  a  free  country, 


244  THE  MEDIATOE 

and  I  want  you  to  hear  what  this  man  has  to 
say." 

Slowly  the  tumult  subsided  and  although  the  mur 
murs  did  not  cease,  it  was  quiet  enough  for  Mr.  Bruce 
to  proceed,  and  he  said:  "My  friends,  children  of 
the  covenant,  the  chosen  people  of  God,"  and  even 
the  murmur  abated  somewhat.  "  Your  father  Abra 
ham  was  led  by  Jehovah,  out  of  Ur  into  Chaldea, 
into  a  larger  possession ;  and  the  promise  was  made 
to  him  that  in  his  seed  the  ends  of  the  earth  should 
be  blessed.  Now  you  can't  all  of  you  understand  me, 
so  just  let  this  man  translate  it  for  you."  The  crowd 
suffered  the  missionary  to  echo  the  speech  of  this 
American,  for  whom  it  evidently  had  more  respect 
than  for  him. 

"Your  fathers  rebelled  against  God,"  the  Ameri 
can  continued.  ' '  They  sinned,  and  became  a  prey  to 
the  nations,  even  as  you  are  now."  The  crowd 
listened  attentively. 

"God  sent  prophets  among  them,  who  warned 
them  of  their  doom  and  promised  that  if  they 
would  turn  to  Him,  He  would  send  them  a  deliverer. 
"  Behold  a  Virgin  shall  conceive,  and  bear  a  son, 
and  shall  call  His  name  Immanuel.'  'Unto  us  a 
child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given.'  'And  his 
name  shall  be  called :  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the 
mighty  God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of 
Peace.'  '  In  the  fullness  of  time  God  sent  into  the 
world  that  Messiah,  His  only  begotten  Son,'  " — when 


MOEE  "MACKES"  245 

the  missionary  translated  that,  the  listeners  howled 
again. 

"God's Son  !  That's  blasphemy,  He  was  Joseph's 
sou,  Joseph's  son  !" 

"He  was  crucified,  dead  and  buried  and  the  third 
day  He  rose  from  the  dead."  Derisive  laughter 
greeted  this  declaration. 

"My  friends,  that's  Scripture,  and  you  can't  go 
back  on  your  own  Scripture.  It's  history,  and  you 
can't  go  back  on  history ;  He  is  the  Messiah,  the 
Prince  of  Peace,  and  His  name  is  Jesus." 

They  allowed  the  missionary  to  interpret  without 
interruption  until  he  came  to  the  last  word ;  then 
Yankev,  who  was  among  the  listeners,  coming 
close  to  the  waggon  cried  :  "If  He  is  the  Everlasting 
Father  and  the  Prince  of  Peace,  why  do  His  follow 
ers  kill  us  and  hate  us  ?  Why  do  they  persecute  us  ! 
Tell  us  why,  you  missionary  traitor,  tell  us  why  ! " 

His  angry  words  were  immediately  followed  by  the 
cries  of  the  newsboys :"  Extra  !  Schournal  !  Extra! 
A  new  pogrom  in  Eussia  !  Fifteen  hundred  Jews 
killed  in  Kishinef!  Extra!  Extra!  Extra  edi 
tion  !  Fifteen  hundred  Jews  killed  ! " 

' i  Do  you  hear  that  ? ' '  Yankev  turned  to  the  mob. 
"Do  you  hear  that?  That's  what  this  '  Prince  of 
Peace '  is  doing !  What  do  you  want  here,  you 
traitor  ?  Do  you  want  to  convert  us,  convert  us  to 
become  like  you,  a  man  who  peddles  religion  for 
money  f  a  man  who  peddles  the  religion  which  has 


246  THE  MEDIATOE 

brought  more  misery  upon  us  than  the  captivity  in 
Babylon  ?  Get  out  of  here,  you  traitor  1 "  He  pulled 
one  of  the  banners  from  the  waggon  and,  in  his  fury, 
tore  it  into  shreds  with  his  teeth,  then  spat  the  shreds 
into  the  face  of  the  missionary.  The  mob  followed 
his  example,  while  from  its  outskirts,  potatoes  and 
carrots  were  hurled  at  the  missionary.  Yaukev  and 
a  few  other  men  mounted  the  waggon  and  threw 
bundles  of  tracts  among  the  people,  who  received 
them  with  howls  of  derision  ;  then  they  turned  upon 
the  frightened  missionary. 

Samuel  had  been  at  the  edge  of  the  mob  ;  but  Mr. 
Bruce' s  voice  had  drawn  him  nearer  and  nearer.  He 
pressed  forward,  until  he  stood  close  to  the  waggon. 
All  he  desired  was  to  see  Mr.  Bruee,  to  be  close  to  the 
man  who  had  been  kind  to  him,  and  whose  daughter 
had  displaced  in  his  silent  worship,  the  Virgin  of 
Nazareth. 

The  enraged  mob  was  now  beginning  to  throw 
stones  at  the  occupants  of  the  waggon,  and,  when 
Samuel  saw  it,  the  passion  of  his  life,  long  beaten 
back,  began  to  flame  again.  Yankev  was  attacking 
Mr.  Bruce,  seeing  which,  all  Samuel's  sense  of  loyalty 
to  the  weak  and  sympathy  with  the  persecuted  stirred 
within  him — and,  mounting  the  waggon,  he  hurled 
Yankev  to  the  ground  and  faced  the  crowd. 

The  slight  droop  of  his  shoulders,  induced  by  long 
years  of  study  and  the  hard  labour  of  the  last  seven 
months — disappeared.  He  stood  erect  as  he  felt 


MOKE  "M ACRES"  247 

courage  and  power  surging  through  him  ;  his  delicate 
features  seemed  momentarily  to  gain  strength,  and  he 
looked  as  Amos  might  have  looked,  when  at  Bethel 
he  accused  the  mob  of  its  sins.  His  pale,  dark  skin 
showed  a  faint  colour  ;  for  the  blood  had  mounted  to 
his  head. 

11 1  am  a  Jew,"  he  cried  in  his  clear  voice  which 
carried  to  the  far  corners  of  the  mob.  A  cry  of  joy 
was  heard  in  the  throng  ;  but  it  did  not  reach 
Samuel's  ears.  "  I  protest  against  your  treatment  of 
these  peaceful  men  who  have  come  here,  and  told  us 
of  our  history." 

"It's  a  lie,"  some  one  cried.  "  The  way  they  tell 
it,  it's  a  lie  ! " 

"It  is  not  a  lie  ;  it's  the  solemn  truth,  and  even  if 
it  were  a  lie,  a  Jew  has  no  right  to  silence  lies  by 
blows." 

"He  says  it's  not  a  lie!"  Yankev  had  again 
mounted  the  waggon.  "He  says  it's  not  a  lie,  be 
cause  he  is  a  baptized  Jew.  That's  what  he  is  !  " 
and  he  pointed  an  accusing  finger  at  Samuel.  "  He 
is  worse  than  the  missionary  ;  he  goes  around  try 
ing  to  convert  people,  by  telling  them  that  the  name 
of  that  Messiah  is  Love.  He  told  it  to  a  little  girl  I 
know.  He  is  a  traitor  and  a  liar  ;  for  the  name  of 
that  Messiah  is  Hate  !  Hate !  Hate ! " 

Again  Samuel  faced  the  mob  which  was  beginning 
to  shower  missiles  at  the  waggon — missiles  which  grew 
more  dangerous  as  they  multiplied.  Dr.  Eosnik, 


248  THE  MEDIATOE 

who  had  been  separated  from  Eeb  Abraham,  strug 
gled  to  reach  the  waggon,  and  succeeded.  Then  he 
tried  to  pull  Samuel  away  ;  in  that,  however,  he  did 
not  succeed.  Samuel  stood  his  ground  and  began  to 
speak ;  but  his  voice  was  drowned  by  Yankev,  who 
shrieked:  "Don't  believe  him!  He  lies!  He  is  a 
Christian,  he  is  a  Christian  of  the  worst  kind  ! 
Don't  believe  him  ! "  Then  he  faced  Samuel  and 
said  :  "  Tell  us  now,  do  you  believe  that  Jesus  is  the 
Messiah?" 

Samuel  waved  his  hand  in  an  emphatic  gesture, 
and  all  remained  silent  to  listen  to  him. 

"It's  not  a  question  of  what  I  believe  ;  it's  a  ques 
tion  of  whether  you  are  doing  the  right  thing  in 
mobbing  these  innocent  men.  You  will  bring  the 
'  pogroms '  to  America — God  forbid  ! — if  you  carry 
on  in  the  manner  of  the  Eussian  Hooligans." 

Yankev  again  became  the  spokesman  of  the  crowd. 
"  We  don't  want  this  religion  thrust  upon  us  here 
by  traitors.  Down  with  the  traitors  of  Israel,  the 
peddlers  of  this  hypocritical  religion,  this  religion  of 
hate,  this  religion  of  the  devil !  You  are  a  traitor, 
you  are  a  Christian,  you  believe  that  Jesus  is  the 
Messiah !" 

"  I  am  not  a  Christian,"  Samuel  called  to  the  mob, 
which  was  again  flinging  vegetables  and  stones  into 
the  waggon. 

Mr.  Bruce  now  put  himself  shelteringly  in  front 
of  Samuel,  who  at  once  pushed  him  aside. 


MOEE  "MACKES"  249 

"I  am  not  a  Christian,"  he  called  out  again ;  and 
again  a  cry  of  joy  was  heard  not  far  away. 

"He  is  my  son !  Let  me  come  to  my  son !"  an 
old  man  implored,  and  the  angry  people  slowly 
made  way  for  him.  "My  own  son,  he  is  not  a 
Christian ! » 

"I  am  not  a  Christian,"  Samuel  called  out  again. 

"You  lie,"  cried  Yankev.  "Didn't  you  say  that 
God  sent  His  Son  upon  the  earth  I  Don't  you  be 
lieve  that  Jesus  is  the  Messiah  ?  " 

Again  Samuel  faced  the  crowd  and  this  time  with 
a  desperate  courage.  Tearing  himself  loose  from 
Dr.  Eosnik's  grasp,  he  said  :  "  I  am  a  Jew !  In 
every  fibre  of  my  soul  a  Jew !  But,  men  of  Israel,  I 
believe  that  Jesus  is  the  Messiah.  I  believe  that 
Jesus  is  the  Eedeemer  of  Israel ! " 

A  great,  heart-rending  cry  rose,  and  fell  upon  his 
ear.  An  old  man  struggled  away  from  the  waggon 
which  he  had  just  reached.  "  He  is  Elisa  ben 
Abuja,  Elisa  ben  Abuja  !  Cursed  of  God.  Not  my 
son  !  Elisa  ben  Abuja  !  " 

Samuel  tried  to  leap  from  the  waggon  but  the  air 
grew  thick  from  flying  missiles,  one  of  which  struck 
his  temple,  and  he  would  have  fallen,  had  not 
Dr.  Eosnik  caught  him,  crying  as  he  did  so, 
"Mackes  gedeuloh !  Mackes  gedeuloh !  Oy,  oy, 
oy!" 

Mr.  Bruce  reached  for  his  horses'  reins  and 
drove  away  through  the  passage  made  by  the  police, 


250  THE  MEDIATOE 

which  had  tardily  reached  the  scene.  The  waggon 
was  still  menaced  by  the  crowd,  which  did  not  see 
the  unconscious  form  of  Samuel,  whose  bruised  head 
rested  upon  the  remnants  of  the  banner,  which  bore 
the  inscription : 

44  Without  the  shedding  of  blood 
There  is  no  remission  of  sina." 


xxn 

DR.  ROSNIK  PRESCRIBES  AGAIN 

"  "W   7~ES,  Fraulein,  he  is  badly  hurt,  outside  and 

j|        inside  ;  outside  by  Judaism  and  inside  by 

-*•      Christianity,  it's  the  same  disease."     Jane 

Bruce  looked  puzzled  as  she  listened  to  Dr.  Eosnik, 

who  had  so  skillfully  dressed  Samuel's  wounds  and 

now  watched  over  his  unconscious  patient  with  the 

greatest  solicitude. 

It  was  twilight,  in  mind  and  heart ;  although  out 
side  the  sun  was  beating  against  the  palisades,  those 
silent  sentinels  of  the  boundaries  of  the  Hudson, 
which,  majestically  calm,  glided  into  the  sea.  The 
sunlight  danced  upon  its  bosom,  and  from  the  shore 
sloped  a  magnificently  shaded  lawn,  which  rose  in 
splendid  terraces  to  the  hilltop,  on  which  stood  the 
Bruce  homestead,  Peniel  Heights. 

The  room  in  which  Samuel  lay  was  one  of  a  suite 
of  three;  large  and  exquisitely  appointed.  The 
view  from  the  windows  commanded  the  river  on 
one  side,  and,  on  the  other,  the  far-rolling  stretches 
of  hills,  dotted  here  and  there  by  stately  mansions. 
In  these  the  merchant  princes  of  New  York  lived, 
during  that  fraction  of  time  when  the  climate  could 
not  be  surpassed  in  any  other  portion  of  the  world. 

"Your  father  likes  the  Jews,  does  he?"  the  doc- 
251 


252  THE  MEDIATOR 

tor  asked  quizzically,  keeping  his  finger  on  Samuel's 
pulse. 

"Yes,  doctor,"  Jane  replied,  "I  have  seldom 
known  this  house  to  be  without  a  Jewish  guest,  and 
I  have  been  brought  up  with  the  idea  that  the  Jews 
have  to  be  converted,  before  the  Lord  can  do  much 
with  the  rest  of  humanity." 

"Yes,  Fraulein.  That's  on  the  principle  of  the 
toughest  job  first ;  if  God  succeeds  in  making  Chris 
tians  of  the  Jews,  He  will  have  an  easy  task  with  the 
rest  of  humanity.  The  biggest  job  He  has,  though, 
is  making  Christians  of  the  Christians." 

Miss  Bruce  translated  the  doctor's  speech  to  her 
father,  who  stood  at  the  other  side  of  the  patient's 
bed.  He  simply  pointed  his  finger  at  Samuel  and 
said:  "What's  the  matter  with  him?  What  was 
the  matter  with  Paul,  who  was  converted  in  a  jiffy  ? 
What  was  the  matter  with  the  crowd  at  Pentecost? " 

"I  don't  know  about  Paul.  I  hadn't  the  pleasure 
of  his  acquaiotance,"  the  doctor  replied ;  "  but  I 
know  this  boy  through  and  through.  He  was  born 
of  a  mother  who  carried  suppressed  in  her  heart  all 
the  unsatisfied  longings  for  the  beautiful  that  could  be 
crowded  there.  She  longed  for  music,  and  all  she 
ever  heard  was  the  synagogue  leader's  voice,  which 
was  as  raspy  as  a  file  ;  even  the  sparrows  on  the  roof 
grew  nervous  when  they  heard  him.  She  wanted 
pictures,  and  all  she  ever  saw  were  the  faded  portraits 
of  her  father  and  mother,  of  which  there  was  nothing 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  AGAIN       253 

left  but  two  big  spots  of  oil  paint.  She  was  hungry 
for  love,  and  her  husband,  pardon  me,  Fraulein,  her 
husband  hugged  the  Talmud  day  and  night.  Samuel 
was  born  of  that  mother,  who  gave  up  her  last  breath 
that  he  might  live.  Nu,  nu,  don't  cry,  Fraulein. 
Ah  !  your  mother  too  gave  her  life  for  you — nu,  there 
are  thousands  of  Jewish  women  who  have  lived  that 
way  and  who  have  died  that  way,  glad  to  give  birth 
to  a  son  who  would  say  the  prayers  for  the  dead  over 
them.  A  little  more  cracked  ice,  please."  Jane 
handed  it  to  him. 

"  So,  plenty  of  ice  for  his  head  ;  if  only  we  could 
put  ice  on  his  heart !  Yes,  Fraulein,"  he  continued, 
placing  the  ice-bag  at  the  base  of  his  patient's  brain  ; 
"  Samuel  was  born  with  all  that  hunger  for  beauty 
and  love — born  into  Judaism,  which  is  hopelessly 
ugly.  An  orthodox  Jewish  synagogue,  Fraulein,  is  as 
ugly  as  a  barn,  and  its  prayers  are  a  babel  of  sounds. 
Well,  he  looked  into  a  Eoman  Catholic  church 
once,  and,  presto,  change.  He  was  converted,  be 
cause  there  was  music  that  went  to  his  soul,  pictures 
that  delighted  his  eyes,  and  a  priest  who  talked  of 
Love.  Then  he  ran  away  from  home  and  went  into  a 
monastery.  Fraulein,  I  went  the  same  course  in  ex 
actly  the  way  that  he  went ;  only  I  had  ice  put  on  my 
brain  very  early,  by  my  professors  ;  they  taught  me 
Philosophy,  and  then  I  had  ice  put  on  my  heart,  by 
what  I  saw  of  Christian  people.  Tra,  la,  la.  That's 
the  reason  the  Lord  will  have  such  a  hard  time  with 


254  THE  MEDIATOR 

the  Jews.  I  don't  wish  to  offend  your  father,  Frau- 
lein.  I  have  never  seen  his  Mnd.  A  Christian  who 
is  called  Abraham,  who  names  his  estate  Peniel, 
who  takes  poor  Jews  to  his  home  as  guests, — that  kind 
I  have  never  seen." 

"To  tell  the  truth,  doctor,"  Jane  said  to  him,  "  I 
have  never  seen  your  kind  of  Jews.  You  do  not 
look  like  a  Jew,  neither  does  Mr.  Gregory,  and  you 
don't  act  like  Jews.  Even  your  names  are  not  Jew 
ish." 

"I  suppose  you  intend  that  for  a  compliment, 
Fraulein,  that  we  don't  look  like  Jews.  That's  all  a 
matter  of  taste.  A  long  nose  in  the  Orient  was  a 
sign  of  distinction  ;  here  in  America — nu,  Fraulein, 
you  have  put  an  idea  into  my  head.  I  have  been 
wondering  how  to  make  money  here.  I  am  going  to 
abbreviate  the  noses  of  the  Jews.  If  I  can  do  that 
without  disfiguring  them,  I  shall  be  a  millionaire  in 
a  month  ;  in  a  month,  Fraulein,  even  if  I  have  to  do 
it  at  wholesale  prices.  As  for  our  names,  Fraulein, 
my  name  was  Eosenzweig  before  I  changed  it  into 
Eosnik,  and  Samuel's  was — don't  be  shocked,  Frau 
lein,  prepare  for  the  worst — his  name  was  Cohen. 
That  name,  which  has  become  a  byword,  means 
Priest.  Your  Jesus  was  a  Cohen ;  the  Pope  is  a 
Cohen  ;  yet  you  think  of  Cohen  as  a  name  which  ap 
plies  only  to  pawnbrokers  and  rag-pickers." 

"I  did  not  mean  to  offend  you,"  Jane  said  apolo 
getically.  "  You  know  what  I  mean." 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  AGAIN      255 

"  Yes,  Fraulein,  I  know  what  you  mean.  You 
think  that  when  a  Jew  looks  like  his  people  and  is 
called  by  their  name,  he  must  be  ashamed  of  himself. 
No,  no,  no,  don't  bother  to  explain.  I  know  all 
about  it,  I  feel  the  same  way  ;  we  all  do.  You  say  I 
don't  act  like  a  Jew.  Did  you  expect  me  to  ask  you 
immediately,  what  is  the  least  you  will  take  for  that 
Louis  XIV.  clock  on  the  mantelpiece,  or  for  the  dia 
mond  pin  you  have  on?  More  ice,  please,  so — a 
whole  lot  of  ice.  Fraulein,  I  act  differently  from 
other  Jews,  because  I  have  ice  on  both  brain  and 
heart.  I  am  cooled  down.  The  Orient  has  been 
frozen  out  of  me,  and  if  I  stay  in  America  long 
enough  I  shall  be  as  proper  and  quiet  as  a  lamp-post. '  ' 

Dr.  Eosnik's  long  and  earnest  conversation  with 
Jane  aroused  Mr.  Bruce' s  curiosity,  for  he  understood 
just  enough  of  it  to  make  him  very  anxious  to  hear 
more.  Now,  as  the  doctor  busied  himself  with 
Samuel's  comfort,  Jane  told  her  father  all  that  had 
been  said. 

"  I  knew  as  soon  as  I  saw  him  on  the  steamer," 
said  Mr.  Bruce,  "that  he  was  no  common  man. 
Look  at  that  face !  " 

Together  they  stood,  looking  at  Samuel.  Against 
the  white  pillow,  his  face  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
chiselled  in  purest  marble  and  mellowed  by  long 
exposure.  His  features,  although  now  sharp  and 
drawn,  bore  the  impress  of  a  noble  soul,  a  soul  in 
battle  ;  it  was  the  face  of  a  spiritual  captain. 


266  THE  MEDIATOR 

"Ya,  ya,  Fraulein;"  the  doctor  had  watched 
them  gazing  at  Samuel.  "  He  looks  like  a  prince  of 
Israel  j  but  see  his  hands,"  and  he  drew  them  from 
beneath  the  coverlid.  "Look  at  them,  so  callous 
and  rough.  He  has  had  just  seven  months  in 
America.  The  other  day  I  passed  a  dime  museum 
on  the  Bowery,  and  a  man  was  yelling  at  the  top  of 
his  voice  :  '  She  eats  'em  alive,  she  eats  'em  alive  ! ' 
America  eats  them  alive  too." 

"That  was  good  for  him,  Jane,"  said  Mr.  Bruce. 
"It  took  the  softness  out  of  him,  that's  the  stuff.  I 
say,  Jane,  that  doctor  has  done  a  lot  of  talking,  but 
he  doesn't  say  what  I  want  to  hear.  Ask  him 
whether  the  boy  is  going  to  get  well.  That's  what 
I'd  like  to  know." 

Dr.  Eosnik  looked  long  at  Samuel,  and  then, 
turning  to  Jane,  said  :  "  Tell  your  father  that  it  will 
be  months  before  he  is  well.  He  was  in  poor  condi 
tion  to  receive  such  a  blow.  His  nerves  are  badly 
shaken,  and  he  is  physically  depleted.  Would  it  not 
be  best  to  remove  him  to  a  hospital  at  once,  while 
it  can  be  done  without  risk  t " 

"Eemove  him  to  an  hospital?"  cried  Mr.  Bruce. 
"Does  the  man  take  me  for  a  priest  or  a  Levite? 
Does  he  think  I'll  '  pass  by  on  the  other  side'  ?  Not 
if  it  takes  years  instead  of  months  !  Wasn't  the  boy 
trying  to  protect  me  when  he  was  struck  ?  Ask  the 
doctor  if  he  will  be  unconscious  very  long." 

"His   head  will    clear   up  in  about  forty -eight 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  AGAIN       257 

hours/'  replied  Dr.  Eosnik.  "But  Ms  heart  never 
will.  He's  suffering  from  Affectionitis  Judaica,  an 
old  disease,  as  old  as  Abraham,  and  there  is  no  cure 
for  it." 

"We  don't  want  him  cured  of  it,  that's  the  stuff! 
That  will  convert  the  world  to  Jesus  !"  Mr.  Bruce 
said,  smiling  enthusiastically  at  the  doctor.  "It's 
the  love  of  God,  in  the  heart  of  a  man  like  this,  that's 
going  to  do  the  business ;  when  a  Jew  gets  that  he 
gets  it  bad." 

"Tell  your  father  that  he  is  right,  Fraulein  ;  and 
tell  him  also  that  the  Jews  originated  that  idea  of  the 
love  of  God  ;  but  the  Christians  have  taken  out  a 
patent  on  it,"  said  the  doctor,  when  Mr.  Bruce' s  re 
mark  was  translated  to  him.  "  Ya,  ya,  Fraulein — a 
good  many  of  us  have  had  ice  put  on  our  heads  and 
on  our  hearts  also.  A  man  like  Samuel,  who  isn't 
packed  in  ice,  is  always  in  hot  water.  The  Jew  is 
either  a  Eationalist  or  a  Mystic,  and  very  often  both ; 
because  he  is  like  Samuel  now.  Ice  on  his  brain  but 
not  on  his  heart. 

1  i  I  must  go  now  to  my  patient  in  the  hospital.  Yes, 
Fraulein,  I  have  an  hospital  practice  ;  nu,  I  had  my 
troubles  with  the  medical  board,  I  tell  you.  No, 
not  an  extensive  practice  ;  just  a  Eussian  Jewess, 
Samuel's  friend,  run  over  by  an  automobile.  How 
is  she  !  All  right,  I  think.  She  is  going  to  be  lame, 
but  she  will  recover." 

"Wait,  doctor ;  let  me  give  you  a  cup  of  tea,  from 


258  THE  MEDIATOE 

a  samovar,  just  as  if  you  were  in  Eussia."  Jane 
rang  the  bell,  and,  while  they  waited  for  the  tea  to 
be  brought,  the  doctor  toyed  with  an  unlighted 
cigarette. 

"  Just  light  that,"  Jane  said.  "  I  don't  allow 
papa  to  smoke  ;  but  you  may." 

Dr.  Eosnik  lighted  his  cigarette,  and,  inhaling  the 
smoke,  blew  rings  into  the  air  while  he  watched  Jane 
brew  the  tea. 

"How  do  you  like  America,  Dr.  Eosnik?"  she 
asked,  waking  him  out  of  his  dreams,  into  which  the 
smoke  of  the  cigarette  had  wafted  him. 

"It's  a  wonder  to  me,  Fraulein,  that  you  didn't 
ask  me  that  immediately.  The  medical  board  which 
examined  me  asked  that  question  before  looking  at 
my  diplomas;  the  first  man  who  shaved  me  asked 
the  same  question,  and  the  first  young  American 
lady  I  meet  is  just  as  original.  Tra,  la,  la." 

Jane  laughed  heartily,  saying  :  "But  do  you  like 
it?" 

"I'll  tell  you,  Fraulein.  I  like  it,  much  as  a  man 
likes  a  lion  which  swallows  him.  He  has  no  choice 
in  the  matter.  I  have  been  here,  nu,  I  don't  know 
how  long — it  already  seems  years.  I  begin  to  speak 
English,  I  eat  raw  beefsteak,  and  even  oysters.  In 
the  old  country,  a  man  couldn't  have  bribed  me  by 
a  million  dollars  to  swallow  an  oyster  ;  I  wouldn't 
have  done  it.  Here  I  swallow  a  dozen,  when  I  can 
afford  them." 


Dr.  Eosnik  sipped  his  tea  with  a  relish ;  puffed 
at  his  cigarette,  blowing  the  smoke-rings  into  the  air, 
and  then  tapping  his  signet  ring  against  the  tumbler 
in  which  Jane  had  served  his  tea,  said  :  "  Ya,  ya,  ya, 
Fraulein — they  eat  them  alive  in  this  country  ;  they 
crush  them  and  grind  them,  and  then  they  eat  them 
up.  PoorEivka!" 

"Won't  you  tell  me  about  her,  doctor!"  Jane 
asked,  refilling  his  glass. 

"  There  isn't  much  to  tell  about  her,  Fraulein.  In 
Eussia  the  Cossacks  burned  her  breast  and  her  hands 
with  cigarettes  ;  in  the  prison  her  lungs  were  nearly 
eaten  up  by  the  foul  air ;  and  here,  in  America,  she 
was  crushed  by  your  hurry  and  rush." 

"  Oh !  Is  she  that  girl  with  the  burned  hands! ' '  Jane 
interrupted  him.  "We  saw  her  on  the  steamer. 
She  was  a  wonderfully  interesting  girl.  She  looked 
so  distinguished,  and  she  walked  the  deck  like  a 
queen." 

"You  mean  like  a  king,  Fraulein ;  she  is  more 
king  than  queen.  Now  I  must  be  going." 

"  Have  another  glass  of  tea,  doctor,"  Jane  urged. 

"No,  thank  you,  enough  is  enough." 

"Please  take  these  roses  to  Misfe  Eivka,  and  re 
member  me  to  her.  Tell  her  that  a  friend  sent  them. 
Will  you  tell  her — an  American  friend !  I  wonder 
how  her  suitor  is — the  ardent  Zionist." 

"  What,  Fraulein  ! "  the  doctor  cried  in  astonish 
ment,  "  you  know  Yankev  too  !  Wonderful!  Well, 


260  THE  MEDIATOE 

well,  you  know  the  whole  menagerie  of  us.  Yankev 
is  still  in  love  with  Zion  and  with  Eivka,  and,  from 
present  appearances,  he  is  as  far  from  the  heavenly 
bride  Jerusalem,  as  he  is  from  the  earthly  one. 
Tra,  la,  la.  Yes,  Fraulein,  he  is  pretty  far  from 
Palestine.  If  I  had  my  way,  he'd  be  in  jail  to-night. 
It  is  he  who  brought  the  t  mackes '  upon  our  friend, 
Mr.  Gregory.  Poor  boy  !  Thank  you,  Fraulein,  for 
the  roses — and  the  tea." 

' '  How  did  you  like  my  tea  ?  "  Jane  asked.  ' '  "Was 
it  anything  like  Eussian  tea  ?  " 

"Ya,  Fraulein,  exactly  as  we  make  it  in  Eussia, 
only  we  put  tea  into  it." 

Jane  laughed  good-naturedly.  "The  next  time 
you  come  I  shall  put  a  pound  of  tea  into  your 
cup." 

"Ask  him  what  we  are  to  do  for  Mr.  Gregory," 
said  Mr.  Bruce. 

u  Nu,  I'll  come  again  to-morrow  morning.  In  the 
meanwhile,  ice,  ice  all  the  time,  on  his  head.  I  had 
hoped  that  the  nurse  would  arrive  before  I  left.  Tell 
her  that  he  will  regain  consciousness  in  about  forty- 
eight  hours,  and. he  must  have  a  stimulant  every 
hour.  When  he  becomes  conscious  he'll  be  down, 
way  down.  That  wound  in  his  head  will  heal  well 
and  give  him  no  trouble  ;  but  to  lose  his  father  again 
— that  will  hurt.  He  should  have  something  to 
stimulate  his  spirit,  something  to  cheer  his  troubled 
heart.  I  have  it !  The  best  medicine  in  the  world 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  AGAIN       261 

for  him — we'll  send  for  his  old  nurse,  the  only  mother 
he  ever  knew." 

"  Is  she  in  this  country,  doctor  ?  " 

"Yes;  she  and  Samuel  came  over  on  the  same 
steamer.  She  went  to  a  place  called  Pennsylvania. 
She  told  me  so  herself." 

"But,  doctor,  that  is  the  name  of  a  State.  We 
could  never  reach  her  unless  you  can  tell  the  name 
of  the  city.  Can  you  not  remember  any  other  name 
besides  Pennsylvania  ?  " 

"  Nu,  let  me  think.  I  remember  now  there  was  a 
name  before  Pennsylvania ;  it  was  a  place  where  they 
dig  coal — tra,  la,  la,"  and  he  tapped  on  the  rail  of 
the  bed  with  his  big  signet  ring  ;  "I  have  it !  Coal- 
ville,  Coalville,  Pennsylvania ;  and  her  name  is 
Suszka  Schafranek.  No,  that  isn't  it  either.  She 
was  about  to  be  married  to  Pavel  Martinsky.  She'll 
come  in  a  moment  if  she  knows  that  her  boy  needs 
her." 

"  We'll  wire  her  at  once,"  said  Mr.  Bruce. 

"Now  remember,  Fraulein;  ice,  ice  all  the  time 
for  his  head,  and  when  he  wakes  let  him  see  his  old 
nurse  sitting  by  him.  Be  good  to  him !  He  is  a 
prince  among  men,  a  prince." 

"Don't  forget  the  flowers,  doctor,"  said  Jane. 
"Tell  Miss  Eivka  that  they  are  from  a  friend  and 
that  I'll  come  to  see  her.  Poor,  poor  girl ! " 

Just  as  Dr.  Eosnik  was  leaving  the  room  the 
nurse  arrived,  and  he  repeated  to  her  his  direc- 


262  THE  MEDIATOK 

tions.  Mr.  Bruce  and  his  daughter  followed  him 
down-stairs. 

" Doctor,"  said  Jane,  "my  father  says  that  as  you 
are  coming  to-morrow  he  will  not  ask  for  your  bill 
yet." 

"Bill,  bill !  no,  no,  not  a  cent,  not  a  cent !  Is  he 
not  my  friend  ? ' '  Nervously  he  felt  in  all  his  pockets 
while  he  moved  slowly  towards  the  door.  "But, 
Fraulein,  I  have  left  my  purse  at  home.  Will  you 
please  lend  me  twenty-five  cents  for  my  car  fare  to  the 
hospital1!  Thank  you,  Fraulein.  Nu,  that's  a  rather 
large  twenty -five  cent  piece.  Good-bye,  good-night ! 
Remember,  ice,  plenty  of  ice  for  his  head,  and  kind 
ness,  lots  of  it,  for  his  heart.  Good-night,  Mr. 
Bruce." 

"No,  I  won't  shake,"  Mr.  Bruce  said,  emphatically; 
"I  am  going  mit  you,  verstehn?  Mit  you,  to  the 
hospital,  to  see  the  madchen.  Drat  it !  Why  can't 
you  talk  United  States,  anyway?  "  to  which  unintel 
ligible  remarks  Dr.  Eosnik  replied  with  his  usual 
"tra,  la,  la." 

As  the  two  men  walked  towards  the  station,  Jane 
could  hear  him  rapping  his  cane  against  the  iron 
fence  which  separated  the  roadway  from  the  park 
surrounding  Peniel  Heights.  She  returned  to  Sam 
uel's  bedside,  and  stood  for  a  long  time  looking  into 
his  face,  growing  more  and  more  conscious  of  its 
spiritual  beauty. 

His  lips  began  to  move,  and  his  speech  came  as 


DE.  EOSNIK  PEESCEIBES  AGAIN       263 

from  great  depths,  as  from  far  away.  The  broken 
sentences  which  he  whispered  indicated  what  thoughts 
were  floating  in  his  brain. 

"Tateleben  Tate,  my  father,  my  father!  I  am 
a  Jew,  yes,  I  am  a  Jew  !  Forgive  me,  father,  Christ 
forgive  me !  Oh !  Mother  of  God,  pray  for  me  !  No, 
no  I "  An  expression  of  distress  settled  upon  his 
face,  and  his  arms  began  to  beat  the  air,  so  that  the 
nurse  had  difficulty  in  quieting  him. 

"No,  no,"  he  cried  again.  "It's  a  lie,  it's  a  lie  ! 
I  am  a  Jew  !  Oh,  father,  take  me  to  your  heart, 
I  am  a  Jew  !  " 

Jane  left  the  room,  while  his  cry  sank  into  a  mur 
mur.  "Forgive  me,  father,  dear,  I  am  a  Jew!  I 
am  a  Jew  1 " 


XXIII 
THE  STRUGGLE  FOR  A  SOUL 


F   I    AWICE  forty-eight  hours  had  passed,   and 
Samuel  was  gradually  climbing  out  of  the 

-^-  darkness  into  which  he  had  been  beaten  by 
the  mob.  Slowly,  the  reluctant  blood  went  back  to 
its  appointed  channels,  bringing  to  the  pallid  face  a 
look  of  returning  life. 

When  Samuel  grew  fully  conscious,  his  first  feeling 
was  a  sense  of  supreme  pleasure  in  the  mere  physical 
joy  of  lying  in  a  soft,  dainty  bed,  which  was  so  great 
a  contrast  to  the  hard  sofa  in  the  barber's  home. 
When  he  opened  his  eyes,  the  luxury  and  beauty  of 
the  rooms  appalled  him.  Dainty  chairs  and  couches, 
rare  bric-a-brac,  books  and  pictures  were  there. 
Everything  was  harmonious,  and  so  satisfying  to  his 
beauty-hungry  soul.  His  eyes  wandered  out  through 
the  broad  windows,  and  down  the  slope  of  the  lawn 
to  the  river — brilliant  in  the  sunlight,  and  just  then 
battling  with  the  advancing  tide  and  busy  with  the 
traffic  which  struggled  towards  the  near  harbour. 

Instinctively  his  thoughts  went  back  to  his  child 
hood,  when  he  read  fairy  tales  by  the  light  of  stolen 
candle-ends.  When,  falling  asleep  over  the  story  of 
the  banished  prince,  he  dreamed  that  he,  too,  was  a 

264 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOE  A  SOUL          265 

king's  son  held  in  banishment  by  a  wicked  witch, 
whose  power  over  him  could  be  destroyed  only  by  a 
beautiful  princess,  who  would  come  to  save  him. 

As  he  lay  thus,  half-awake,  half-dreaming,  a  pecul 
iar  song  struck  his  ear — sweet,  simple  and  solemn. 
The  voices,  a  man's  and  a  woman's,  came  to  him  dis 
tinctly  through  the  open  door.  They  were  singing  : 

"  Jesus,  Lover  of  my  soul, 

Let  me  to  Thy  bosom  fly, 
While  the  nearer  waters  roll, 

While  the  tempest  still  is  high  ! 
Hide  me,  oh  !  my  Saviour,  hide 

Till  the  storm  of  life  is  past ; 
Safe  into  the  haven,  guide, 

Oh !  receive  my  soul  at  last." 

As  the  song  continued,  it  opened  the  floodgate  of 
suffering  which  was  pent  up  in  Samuel's  heart,  and  a 
dry  sob  escaped  him. 

The  nurse  came  quickly  to  his  side,  and  seeing  that 
he  was  fully  conscious,  said  :  "I  must  tell  them  that 
you  are  awake."  She  went  towards  the  door,  but 
stopped ;  for  clear  and  strong,  floating  up  the  stair 
way,  came  words  of  prayer — an  unusual  prayer  it  was 
to  Samuel — in  which  a  man  talked  to  God  familiarly, 
in  his  own  words.  To  Samuel,  the  prayer  was  both 
eloquent  and  uplifting  ;  for  such  a  prayer  he  had 
never  heard  before.  It  seemed  to  him,  as  he  listened, 
as  if  God  were  in  the  room,  face  to  face  with  the  man 
who  prayed.  This  was  what  he  heard  : 

"Bless  the  stranger  within  our  gates,   heal  his 


266  THE  MEDIATOR 

body,  bring  him  back  to  life  and  strength  ;  heal  his 
broken  spirit  and  comfort  his  heart.  Make  his  suf 
fering  a  means  of  sanctification  to  his  soul,  that  it 
may  be  purified,  and  that  he  may  be  fitted  to  lead 
his  people  from  the  bonds  of  the  law  into  the  free 
dom  of  the  Gospel.  Bless  the  Jews,  Thine  ancient 
people,  gather  them  once  more  within  the  walls  of 
Zion,  that  the  Son  of  man  may  come  again  in  His 
glory  to  rule  this  earth,  and  destroy  the  power  of 
Satan." 

Then  the  woman's  voice,  with  the  man's,  repeated 
the  Lord's  prayer,  in  which  Samuel  also  joined.  His 
thoughts  were  thus  momentarily  diverted  from  his 
grief ;  and  his  sore  heart  was  soothed  by  the  power 
of  the  prayer  and  its  expressed  solicitude  for  him. 

Before  he  realized  it,  he  felt  his  hand  grasped  by 
Mr.  Bruce,  and  heard  his  hearty  voice  saying : 
"Good  boy,  glad  you've  come  out  of  it  O.  K.  and 
glad  you're  here.  You  see  I  had  to  go  and  bring 
you.  Well,  the  Lord's  hand  is  in  all  this.  How  are 
you  feeling  t ' '  Samuel  tried  to  express  his  gratitude. 

"  Never  you  mind,  don't  you  thank  me.  This  is 
the  Lord's  business.  Let's  thank  God  for  it.  That 
was  a  pretty  tight  box  out  of  which  He  led  us. 

"Now,  now,  my  boy,  you  mustn't  think  of  it 
again,"  he  said  tenderly ;  for  a  look  of  deep  pain 
was  on  Samuel's  face  and  his  mind  evidently  was  on 
his  father,  whom  he  had  lost  after  searching  for  him 
so  long. 


THE  STEUGGLE  FOE  A  SOTJL          267 

"The  Good  Book  says:  'When  thy  father  and 
mother  forsake  thee,  the  Lord  thy  God  shall  take 
thee  up.'  My  boy,  there  is  nothing  like  the  promises 
of  God  to  cling  to.  The  Lord  has  a  great  work  for 
you  to  do,  He  has  laid  His  hand  on  you  and  has 
ordained  you  from  your  mother's  womb.  'I  will 
never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee'  ;  these  are  pre 
cious  words  ;  there  is  nothing  like  God's  word,  noth 
ing  like  God's  word,  to  cling  to  when  you're  in  a 
tight  place. 

"Here  is  Jane.  You  remember  my  daughter? 
She  is  just  as  saucy  as  ever  ;  but  you  have  learned  to 
talk  United  States  well  enough,  so  she  can't  have 
things  quite  so  much  her  own  way  as  she  had  on  the 
steamer." 

Jane  took  Samuel's  outstretched  hand  and  uttered 
the  usual  commonplaces ;  but  her  heart  was  deeply 
stirred  as  she  saw  the  happy  light  in  his  large  dark 
eyes,  and  his  fine  face  full  of  a  strange  gladness. 

"  Oh !  Miss  Bruce,,  this  is  just  a  fairy  tale,  is  it 
not !  I  used  to  dream  of  it  all  when  I  was  a  small 
boy.  I  would  read  at  night  about  Aladdin's  lamp, 
and  follow  him  in  his  adventures.  It  seems  to  me 
that  I  saw  just  such  a  palace  as  this,  and  such  a 
princess." 

"And  such  a  cross  old  king?  "  Jane  asked,  laugh 
ing,  as  she  put  her  arm  affectionately  around  her 
father. 

"No,  Miss  Bruce,  your  father — oh  !  how  kind  he 


268  THE  MEDIATOE 

is,  how  shall  I  thank  him?  I  don't  know  what  all 
this  means.  I  mustn't  stay  to  be  taken  care  of." 

"Now,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Bruce,  "you  be 
have  yourself.  You're  in  the  hands  of  friends,  who 
are  just  doing  the  Lord's  business,  and  you  mustn't 
worry  nor  fret ;  we  are  going  to  take  care  of  you 
until  the  Lord  opens  the  way  and  leads  you  out." 

Samuel  had  nearly  exhausted  his  new-found 
strength,  and  was  silenced,  for  the  moment.  Then 
he  said,  evidently  with  great  effort:  "But,  Mr. 
Bruce,  I  have  a  friend  in  the  hospital,  she  needs 
me.  I  must  go  to  work  as  soon  as  possible.  And 
there  are  Malke,  and  my  poor  father,  and  Father 
Antonius." 

"You  needn't  worry  about  that  girl,"  Mr.  Bruce 
replied.  "I  have  been  at  the  hospital  twice,  and 
she  was  well  enough  to  argue  with  me  about  religion, 
and  to  call  me  an  old  fogy.  She  told  Jane,  who  was 
with  me  yesterday,  that  she  belongs  to  the  bourgeois, 
that  she  is  a  parasite,  and  other  complimentary 
things.  You  don't  have  to  scratch  that  Eussian  long 
to  find  the  Tartar." 

"Don't  be  disturbed  by  what  papa  says,  Mr. 
Gregory,  he  exaggerates.  Eivka  wasn't  half  as  bad 
as  that.  She  is  a  little  extreme,  but  wonderfully  in 
teresting.  She  seems  to  belong  to  another  world 
than  mine.  Ever  since  I  was  a  child  I  have  been 
taught  to  tell  lies, — not  quite  that,"  she  said,  seeing 
her  father's  astonished  look — "but  to  hide  my  real 


THE  STRUGGLE  FOE  A  SOUL          269 

thoughts  behind  words  which  were  a  sort  of  screen 
to  truth.  Your  Eivka  is  so  different.  She  tells  you 
just  what  she  thinks,  whether  it  is  good  or  bad.  It's 
a  new  experience,  I  can  assure  you." 

"What  are  you  talking  about  anyway,  Jane T " 

"You  know,  papa.  For  instance,  I  go  calling, 
and  they  say  :  '  How  charming  of  you  to  come  to  see 
me,'  or  '  How  well  you  look ! '  when  they  probably 
think  just  the  opposite  ;  and  I  say  the  same  things 
to  others.  Eivka,  as  soon  as  she  saw  me  said :  '  I 
don't  like  you,  you  look  bourgeois.'  " 

Samuel  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  said  :  "You 
must  forgive  her,  Miss  Bruce.  Her  world  was  so  real, 
so  hard,  so  terrible.  To  a  Eussian  revolutionist,  all 
the  rest  of  the  world  is  bourgeois.  Poor  girl !  Poor 
Eivka !  What  will  she  do  ?  A  cripple  ! " 

"  Don't  you  worry,  my  boy,"  Mr.  Bruce  said  step 
ping  between  Jane  and  Samuel.  "We'll  look  after 
her.  Just  you  lay  all  your  burdens  on  the  Lord. 

"Jane,  you  and  I  would  better  get  out  of  here,  or 
Dr.  Eosnik  will  scold  us  when  he  comes.  It's  just 
about  his  time.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Gregory,  he  rec 
ommended  a  special  nurse  for  you.  She  ought  to 
have  been  here  long  ago." 

Just  then  there  came  a  vigorous  knocking  at  the 
front  door,  followed  by  the  ringing  of  the  electric 
bell,  and,  a  few  minutes  later,  Samuel,  who  had  been 
left  alone  with  the  nurse,  heard  heavy  footsteps  on  the 
stairs.  After  some  shuffling  of  feet  in  the  hall,  a 


270  THE  MEDIATOE 

woman  appeared  in  the  doorway — a  woman  whom  he 
ought  to  have  known  instantly.  The  face  was  very 
familiar,  but  the  dress  and  the  hat  were  new  and 
strange. 

The  woman's  florid  complexion  and  ample  propor 
tions  were  accentuated  by  the  green  and  red  shirt 
waist  of  large  plaid,  which  she  wore.  Her  magenta 
skirt  had  failed  to  make  connection  with  the  waist, 
and  trailed  dustily  after  her.  A  broad  hat  was  tilted 
forward  over  the  dizzy  height  of  a  pompadour — 
the  crown  of  the  hat  a  mass  of  highly-coloured 
flowers  and  foliage,  in  which  yellow  and  blue  pre 
dominated.  Over  one  side  of  this  creation,  a  long 
white  plume  (which  had  weathered  many  storms), 
swept  defiantly.  Holding  her  bag  in  her  hand,  this 
apparition  moved  cautiously  over  the  waxed  floor  to 
the  bed,  and  then  dropping  to  her  knees,  fell  upon 
Samuel's  neck  crying  :  "Schma  Jsrael !  my  boy  ! 
my  Samuel ! "  while  her  resounding  kisses  could  be 
heard  in  the  adjoining  room,  where^the  nurse  sat  and 
smiled. 

"  My  own  boy  !  What  has  happened  to  my  golden 
boy  ?  "  Not  until  then  could  Samuel  believe  that  the 
apparition  was  really  Suszka,  and  his  greeting  was  no 
less  affectionate  than  her  own. 

"  How  are  you,  Suszka  dear  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Not  good,"  she  replied;  "not  good,"  and  she 
pointed  to  her  heart.  "  My  heart  is  crying  for  the 
old  Fatherland.  This  is  good  for  young  people  like 


THE  STEUGGLE  FOE  A  SOUL          271 

Anka.  She  has  thirty  lovers ;  every  man  in  the 
camp  wants  to  marry  her,  and  runs  after  her,  but  an 
old  woman  like  me  has  nobody  to  talk  to.  Pavel  is 
in  his  saloon  day  and  night,  and  I  am  all  by  myself. 
Give  me  the  old  Fatherland.  Oh  !  my  boy,  I  am  so 
homesick  for  my  little  cottage  and  my  garden  ! 
But  now  I  am  happy  because  I  can  be  with  you." 

She  turned  in  all  directions,  looking  wonderingly 
at  Samuel's  surroundings.  "But,  my  boy,"  she 
said,  "this  is  a  king's  palace!  How  do  you  come 
here  ?  It's  a  wonderful  place.  There  is  a  whole  vil 
lage  pasture  in  front  of  the  house  and  so  much  grass 
going  to  waste.  I  didn't  see  a  single  cow  on  it." 

"Yes,  Suszka,  this  is  a  king's  palace,"  Samuel 
answered.  "  And  the  lady  coming  in  at  that  door  is 
the  princess.  I  can't  tell  you  about  it  now — some 
other  time."  He  sank  back  again,  dizzy  from  the 
joy  of  seeing  his  old  nurse. 

"Come,"  said  the  maid  who  accompanied  Miss 
Bruce,  "and  I'll  show  you  your  room,  and  you  can 
change  your  dress."  Suszka  did  not  understand,  and 
remained,  bag  in  hand  looking  at  the  maid,  who 
beckoned  to  her.  Suszka  followed,  walking  very 
carefully  over  the  waxed  floor,  muttering  under  her 
breath  :  "Schma  Jsrael !  this  is  a  palace,  a  palace  ! 
Floors  of  glass,  and  a  bed  of  gold."  When  she 
reached  the  door  she  turned  abruptly  and  asked : 
"But,  Samuel,  why  haven't  they  a  single  feather 
bed  t» 


272  THE  MEDIATOR 

Evidently  Suszka  had  not  come  alone,  for  footsteps 
were  heard  again.  This  time  it  was  Mr.  Bruce,  fol 
lowed  by  a  priestly  looking  man  of  rotund  form  and 
sanctimonious  bearing.  As  he  entered  the  room  he 
bestowed  gracious  smiles  upon  Jane.  "Mr.  Greg 
ory,"  Mr.  Bruce  said  to  Samuel,  who  lay  with  closed 
eyes,  "  this  gentleman  came  with  your  Suszka,  and  in 
sists  that  he  must  see  you  ;  that  he  is  an  old  friend." 

11  Pax  vobiscum,"  said  the  priest  in  an  oily  voice. 

Samuel  shuddered  at  the  sound  ;  for  it  was  familiar, 
too  familiar.  It  instantly  awakened  memories  of  the 
cloister,  of  an  older  monk  whom  nobody  liked,  whose 
eyes  saw  everything,  and  who  reported  everything. 
The  monks  called  him  Judas,  among  themselves. 

"Pax  vobiscum,"  he  said  again,  and  then  con 
tinued  in  Latin:  "Brother  Gregorius,  I  come  in 
the  name  of  the  prior  of  your  Order  and  in  the  name 
of  the  Holy  Catholic  Church,  to  remind  you  that  your 
vows  hold  you  to  her,  in  absolute  obedience.  It  has 
come  to  our  ears  that  you  have  repudiated  those 
vows,  and  that  you  have  consorted  with  worldly 
people  and  unbelievers.  If  you  will  return  to  the 
bosom  of  our  Holy  Church  she  will  be  lenient,  and 
forgive  ;  if  you  do  not  return,  you  will  be  to  her 
anathema,  like  any  unbeliever." 

Stiff,  cold  and  formal,  like  an  accusing  judge,  he 
stood  beside  Samuel's  bed,  unmoved  by  those  eyes 
that  so  wistfully  looked  at  him  as  if  to  say  :  "  Leave 
me  in  peace." 


THE  STEUGGLE  FOE  A  SOUL          273 

Summoning  all  his  strength,  Samuel  said  in  Eng 
lish  :  "I  have  not  violated  the  vows  which  I  made, 
but  the  church  has  violated  hers.  I  have  cast  her 
aside  because  she  encouraged  pillage,  theft,  and  the 
death  of  my  people.  Her  priests  laughed  at  me  in 
my  agony  for  my  own  flesh  and  blood."  He  fell 
back  exhausted. 

"  Ah  !  > '  said  Mr.  Bruce.  '  <  That's  it !  You  are  a 
priest,  an  emissary  of  the  Pope  !  You  obtained  this 
interview  under  false  pretenses !  I  have  just  one 
thing  to  say  to  you — leave  the  house  at  once ! " 

"I  am  here,"  the  priest  said  unctiously,  "on  a 
sacred  errand  for  a  Brotherhood  of  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church,  the  Church  against  which  the  gates  of  hell 
cannot  prevail.  I  am  going  to  state  my  errand  once 
more,  as  I  have  been  commanded  to  do.  Here  in  the 
presence  of  this  Eoman  Catholic  witness"  (Suszka 
had  reentered  the  room,  bowing  before  the  priest  and 
crossing  herself),  "I  adjure  you,  Brother  Gregorius, 
to  return  to  the  bosom  of  Holy  Mother  Church,  or  else 
be  to  her  anathema,  forever.  No  priest  will  ever  hear 
your  confession,  or  administer  to  you  any  of  her  sacred 
ordinances,  in  life  or  in  death ;  nor  let  your  body 
rest  in  consecrated  ground." 

"See  here,"  Mr.  Bruce  said,  " that  man  has  more 
religion  to  the  square  inch  than  the  whole  Dominican 
order  put  together,  and  he  doesn't  need  your  ordi 
nances.  "We  have  a  dozen  Bibles  in  this  house,  and 
when  we  have  the  Word  of  God  we  don't  need 


274  THE  MEDIATOR 

your  Latin  hocus  pocus.  He  doesn't  need  any  priest 
or  Pope,  for  Jesus  is  our  High  Priest.  He  was  both 
priest  and  sacrifice,  as  it  is  written.  As  for  any 
sacred  ordinances  at  death,  or  resting  in  consecrated 
ground,  thank  God  we  don't  need  such  services  just 
now,  and,  when  we  do,  we  know  where  we  can  get 
them.  You  will  oblige  me  now  by  leaving  this  man, 
who  is  still  dangerously  ill." 

"I  will  go,"  said  the  priest  turning  to  Samuel, 
"when  you  tell  me  to;  but  remember  that  you  are 
building  upon  sand,  if  you  build  on  the  faith  of  these 
heretics.  The  Church  will  prevail,  because  it  is  the 
only  true  Church,  the  Church  founded  by  the  Lord 
and  by  St.  Peter.  These  meeting  houses  of  yours, 
my  dear  sir,"  turning  to  Mr.  Bruce,  "are  built  on 
sand,  and  each  one  of  them  on  a  different  bank  of 
sand.  They  are  separated  from,  jealous  of,  and  at 
strife  with  one  another  ;  while  the  true  Church  is  one 
and  indivisible,  like  the  garment  of  the  Lord. 
Brother  Gregorius,  which  do  you  choose  for  the  sal 
vation  of  your  soul — a  rock  or  a  sand-bank  ?  " 

"Listen,  Brother  Aloysius,"  Samuel  said  painfully 
and  slowly;  "I  am  not  much  concerned  about  the 
salvation  of  my  soul ;  but  this  is  the  first  place  where 
I  have  found  revealed  the  Divine  love.  I  am  going 
to  rest  my  soul  on  the  faith  which  these  people  repre 
sent,  and  cast  in  my  lot  with  them.  I  can  say  noth 
ing  more  only  go  !  Go  ! " 

The  gracious  smile  had  passed  from  the  face  of  the 


THE  STEUGGLE  FOE  A  SOUL          275 

priest ;  with  a  wrathful  look  at  Samuel  he  turned 
from  the  bedside  and  confronted  Suszka,  who  was 
standing  behind  him,  jealously  watching  her  precious 
boy.  She  looked  now,  like  her  old  self,  whom  Sam 
uel  knew  and  loved.  She  had  changed  her  ill-fitting, 
modern  attire,  for  the  familiar  and  picturesque  peasant 
garb  to  which  she  was  accustomed. 

"Come  along,  child,"  said  Brother  Aloysius,  "get 
your  things  and  we'll  go." 

"My  things,  holy  Father!  I  have  just  taken 
them  off !  And  glad  I  am  to  be  in  my  own  clothes 
again  !  It  was  a  terrible  job  to  get  those  others  off. 
They  belong  to  Anka ;  she  squeezed  me  into  them, 
and  I  can' t  put  them  on  without  her.  And  why  must 
I  leave  my  sick  boy,  holy  Father? " 

"Because  this  is  the  house  of  heretics,  and  your 
sick  boy  is  now  anathema — cursed  by  the  Church ; 
you  will  load  this  curse  upon  your  own  soul,  and  burn 
in  hell-fire  if  you  remain  with  him."  Suszka  knelt 
beside  her  boy  and  embraced  him,  weeping  loudly. 

"  Go,  Suszka  !    But  why  did  you  bring  him?  " 

"  I  told  him  about  you,  and  that  I  was  going  to  see 
you,  and  he  said  he  would  come  with  me." 

"  Come,  my  child,  daughter  of  the  Church,  come  ! " 
Suszka  rose  and  stood,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 

"This  woman  must  go  with  me,"  Father  Aloysius 
said  to  Mr.  Bruce.  "I  could  not  leave  one  of  my 
children  here,  in  peril  of  her  soul." 

Mr.  Bruce  and  Jane  watched  Suszka,  as  she  stood 


276  THE  MEDIATOR 

undecided,  wincing  under  the  sharp  glance  of  her 
spiritual  Father.  Slowly  and  reluctantly,  crying  like 
a  child,  she  left  the  room,  and  they  could  hear  her 
sobbing  as  she  mounted  the  stairs  :  "My  boy !  My 
golden  boy  ! " 

In  a  few  minutes  she  returned,  her  broad  hat  on 
her  head,  the  ostrich  plume  drooping  dejectedly  as 
she  advanced.  Her  wonderful  gown  with  all  its  ac 
cessories  hung  over  her  arm. 

' '  I  can' t  put  them  on  without  Anka.  I  don' t  know 
how  to  fasten  these  American  clothes  ! "  she  cried. 

"Come,  come,  my  child!"  The  priest  turned 
away  from  all  that  display  of  vanity,  in  the  shape  of 
woman's  apparel. 

Then  Suszka  heard  Samuel  moan,  the  deep,  heart 
broken  moan  of  a  man  wounded  to  the  core  of  his 
being.  She  dropped  her  bag  and  her  clothes,  defi 
antly  faced  her  priest  and  said  :  "Pavel  says :  *  In 
this  country  everybody  does  as  he  damn  please,' — I 
am  going  to  stay  with  my  boy  and  nurse  him,  even  if 
I  do  go  to  hell  for  it" 

Slowly,  majestically,  and  muttering  curses  in  the 
name  of  the  only  true  Church,  Father  Aloysius 
descended  the  staircase  and  left  the  house — quite  un 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  had  led  two  souls 
through  a  great  battle,  which  for  them  had  been  vic 
torious. 


xxrv 

THE  MEDIATOR  CHOSEN 

THE  worshipping  congregation  had  just  been 
dismissed  from  the  church  which  served  as 
the  place  of  spiritual  refreshment  for  the 
residents  of  the  little  village  on  the  Hudson,  where 
Peniel  Heights  was  situated.  Small  and  select  groups 
of  people  were  entering  their  waiting  carriages  and 
automobiles,  after  having  lingered  long  enough  to  ex 
change  the  customary  greetings,  and  to  indulge  in  the 
small  talk  which  usually  finds  expression  when  the 
reaction  comes  after  spiritual  struggle. 

Did  not  Jacob  discuss  with  Esau,  the  women  and 
the  children,  and  the  he  asses  and  the  she  asses  which 
were  in  his  company,  and  that,  immediately  after  he 
had  wrestled  with  the  angel  until  daybreak !  Was 
it  not  therefore  perfectly  proper  for  Mabel  Cartwright 
(the  daughter  of  the  deacon  who  passed  the  plate  that 
morning),  to  say  to  Sue  Pitkin  (the  Sunday-school 
superintendent's  daughter):  "Did  you  see  Jane's 
gallant  knight!  Isn't  he  a  'beaut'?  I  wonder 
whether  he,  too,  is  a  son  of  Abraham  ?  " 

To  which  Sue  replied  :  "I  don't  think  he  is  ;  you 
can  usually  tell  them  by  the  odour  of  garlic,  or  by 
their  obtrusive  piety,  or  some  other  Orientalism. 
This  man  emits  the  true  flavour  of  the  old  world,  and 

277 


278  THE  MEDIATOE 

a  suggestion  of  violet- water.  Gee  !  but  aren't  his 
eyes  fetching?" 

"I'll  bet  you  dollars  to  doughnuts,"  said  young 
Pitkin,  who  was  winding  up  his  automobile,  "  that  he 
is  a  'Sheeny.'  " 

"I  am  ashamed  of  you,  Bob  ;  can't  you  talk  more 
respectfully  of  the  chosen  people  ?  "  Mabel  exclaimed, 
with  more  enjoyment  than  displeasure  in  the  voicing 
of  her  protest.  lt  How  can  you  tell  anyway  1 " 

"There  are  two  infallible  signs,"  he  said,  watch 
ing  the  refractory  machine.  "Firstly,  they  have 
bow-legs " 

"Bob!"  his  sister  and  Mabel  laughingly  ex 
claimed. 

"  And  secondly,  as  far  as  the  memory  of  man  run 
neth  back,  Jane  Bruce  never  went  to  church  with  any 
other  man  than  a  converted  Jew,  or  a  Jew  just  about 
to  be  converted.  She  has  '  led  them  like  sheep  to 
the  slaughter ' — lo,  these  many  years !  and  her  good 
looks,  and  her  father's  dollars,  had  more  to  do  with 
their  conversion  than" — once  more  he  gave  the 
machine  a  vigorous  turn — "than — well,  let  her 
go  !  So  long,  Mabel ;  this  afternoon  at  four,  did  you 
say  T  I  am  going  to  bring  my  six-cylinder  and  give 
her  a  try  out,  and  your  nerves,  too.  I  guess  you're 
plucky  enough  though.  So  long,  then,"  and  the 
horn  tooted  the  way  clear  for  Bob's  machine  and  for 
Mabel's  electric  brougham.  Her  father  was  a 
Quaker  by  birth  and  training,  and  he  regarded  this 


THE  MEDIATOB  CHOSEN  279 

as  a  more  orthodox  vehicle  for  church-going  than  a 
heavy  touring  car. 

Mr.  Bruce  never  used  the  carriage  or  motor  car  on 
Sunday,  he  alone,  among  all  his  neighbours,  clinging 
to  the  old  fashioned  notion  that  the  Decalogue  was 
still  in  force.  Jane  was  quite  rebellious  and  vainly 
tried  to  persuade  him  that  there  were  no  automobiles 
in  the  wilderness,  and  that  Moses  did  not  legislate  for 
a  gasoline  age. 

The  Bruce  party  took  the  steep  footpath  which  led 
from  the  church.  Down  the  hillside  the  three  went, 
one  following  the  other ;  for  the  path  was  rather  nar 
row.  They  reached  the  roadway  ahead  of  the  other 
members  of  the  congregation,  who  used  the  swifter 
mode  of  travel,  but  had  to  circle  the  crest  of  the  hill 
before  they  reached  the  lower  level. 

"What  did  you  think  of  the  sermon  1"  Mr. 
Bruee  asked  Samuel,  breaking  the  solemn  silence 
which  still  lingered  over  them. 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  was  the  reply,  "I  didn't  go 
beyond  the  text  with  the  minister,  and  then  I  had 
thoughts  of  my  own.  It  was  a  wonderful  text." 

"Yes,  indeed,  a  great  text,"  Jane  said,  "but  the 
sermon  reminded  me  of  a  man  climbing  to  the  top  of 
the  Matterhorn,  to  deposit  a  snow-flake." 

"  Jane,  you  are  hard  on  Dr.  "Wright.  He  does  the 
best  he  can." 

"  No  doubt,  papa  ;  but  he  ought  to  choose  a  more 
appropriate  text  for  our  church  than  :  '  If  any  man 


280  THE  MEDIATOR 

will  come  after  Me  let  him  deny  himself  and  take  up 
his  cross  aud  follow  Me.'  Last  Sunday  he  was  in  his 
element  when  he  preached  on  '  He  leadeth  me  beside 
the  still  waters.'  He  sailed  us  up  and  down  the  Hud 
son  in  our  private  yachts,  and  when  we  weren't  on 
the  water  we  walked  beneath  shading  elms,  or  rode  in 
a  Pullman  coach,  observation  car,  private  compart 
ment,  and  all — but  to-day  he  was  out  of  his  element." 

Just  then  Bob  Pitkin's  automobile  came  limp 
ing  along.  It  breathed  irregularly,  and  suddenly 
stopped  at  a  short  rise  in  the  hill  ahead  of  them. 
Leaving  the  car,  Bob  pulled  off  his  coat,  lifted  various 
portions  of  the  machine  to  the  ground,  and  began  to 
hammer  and  screw.  When  Mr.  Bruce' s  party 
reached  him,  Jane  called  out :  "  Hello,  Bob,  what's 
the  matter!" 

"Everything  is  the  matter.  The  blamed  thing  is 
all  out  of  gear.  I  had  no  business  to  take  it  out ;  but 
mamma  said  I  ought  not  to  take  my  six-cylinder  to 
day  ;  she  thought  it  too  showy  to  go  to  church  in. 
Mamma  has  old-fashioned  notions." 

Mr.  Bruce  and  Samuel  had  stopped  with  Jane,  who 
now  entered  into  conversation  with  Bob's  sister,  while 
Mr.  Bruce  introduced  the  men  to  each  other. 

"I  have  never  seen  the  works  of  one  of  these 
machines  before,"  Samuel  said  coming  closer. 

"It's  more  complicated  than  a  sewing  machine," 
Bob  replied  sarcastically  ;  for  he  knew  the  usual 
trade  of  Mr.  Bruce' s  Jewish  guests. 


THE  MEDIATOE  CHOSEN  281 

Samuel  made  no  reply,  not  catching  the  meaning 
of  the  remark,  and  walked  on  with  Mr.  Bruce.  Jane 
lingered,  and,  turning  to  Bob,  said  :  "I  am  ashamed 
of  you,  Bob,  to  talk  that  way  to  Mr.  Gregory." 

"Mr.  Gregory,  Jane  !  What  was  his  name  before 
he  came  to  Peniel  Heights  ?  Samuel  Jacobson  t  I 
say,  Jane,  I  am  just  catching  on  to  why  your  father 
calls  his  place  Peniel.  The  preacher  told  us  once, 
that  that  was  where  Jacob's  name  was  changed.  Am 
I  right?  By  the  way,  do  you  know  what's  become 
of  our  baptized  friend,  Jacob  Eosenberg,  alias  Jacques 
Eouseau  1  We  had  him  arrested  the  other  day  be 
cause  he  burned  down  his  dry  goods  store.  Being 
sprinkled  in  our  church,  doesn't  reduce  the  risk  of 
the  fire  insurance  companies ;  neither  does  that  kind 
of  sprinkled  risk  reduce  our  damages.  We  know  by 
bitter  experience  that  the  Jews  fire  their  stock  even 
after  they  are  converted." 

"Well,  Bob,  the  Gentiles  water  their  stock  even 
after  they  are  converted.  How  about  Mr.  Cart- 
wright,  who  is  a  deacon  of  our  own  church  ?  What's 
the  difference  between  him  and  Jacob  Eosenberg?" 

"I'll  tell  you  the  difference,  Jane.  A  Jew  is  a 
Jew,  and  you  can't  make  anything  else  out  of  him  ; 
and  I'll  bet  you  dollars  to  doughnuts  that  some  day 
your  father  will  exchange  you  for  the  soul  of  one  of 
those  Jews,  and  one  of  the  chosen  children  will  be  a 
chosen  son-in-law." 

"Don't  mind  him,  Jane,  dear,"  Sue  said  sweetly 


282  THE  MEDIATOE 

to  Jane,  who  was  about  to  follow  her  father.  "Bob 
is  j ust  j ealous.  You  know  he'  d  marry  you  to-morrow 
if  you'd  let  him,  with  all  your  Jewish  impedimenta. 
Don't  mind  him." 

' '  Don' t  be  uneasy,  dear.  I  don' t  mind  him  at  all, ' ' 
said  Jane  as  she  walked  away,  not  looking  back ;  al 
though  she  heard  Bob  say  :  "  Damn  the  Jews,  any 
way  1" 

Jane  went  slowly  towards  the  great  gates  leading 
into  her  father's  estate,  feeling  more  keenly  than  Bob 
knew,  the  edge  of  his  stupid  remarks ;  for  it  is  with 
words  as  with  tools — the  dull  edge  makes  the  sorest 
wound. 

She  was  not  anxious  to  overtake  the  men,  who  were 
deeply  engaged  in  conversation.  She  was  busy  with 
her  own  thoughts,  which,  lately,  had  been  anything 
but  comfortable  ones. 

Four  months  this  Jew  had  been  a  gnest  at  Peniel 
Heights ;  nothing  unusual,  as  far  as  the  length  of  his 
stay  was  concerned.  She  knew  some  converts  who 
stayed  longer,  and  would  have  continued  to  stay, 
had  not  the  spirit,  personified  by  her  father,  moved 
them  to  a  broader,  and  a  more  or  less  useful,  field  of 
labour.  This  man,  however,  was  different.  He  was 
so  simple-minded,  so  eager  to  learn,  so  sanely  enthu 
siastic  in  his  love  for  men,  that  his  spirit  became  a 
contagion  and  she  caught  it. 

Her  father's  narrow  theological  outlook  had  broad 
ened  somewhat  since  he  had  been  brought  in  touch 


THE  MEDIATOE  CHOSEN  283 

with  Samuel's  deep,  spiritual  experience ;  but  what 
pleased  Jane  most,  and  caused  her  to  admire  the 
young  Jew  beyond  her  own  consciousness,  was  the 
fact  that  he  had  stoutly  refused  to  accede  to  her 
father's  desire  that  he  should  become  a  missionary  to 
the  Jews. 

To  both  Mr.  Bruce  and  Jane,  Samuel  had  opened 
larger  windows  into  life ;  into  its  darkness  as  well  as 
into  its  light.  The  East-side  was  no  longer  a  field  to 
be  exploited  for  souls ;  but  a  vast  acreage  in  which 
to  plant  new  ideals  and  higher  ones,  and  from  which 
to  garner,  at  last,  the  harvest  of  the  kingdom.  Jane 
had  become  acquainted  with  Malke,  and  had  learned 
to  love  her.  Into  her  thoughts  now  there  came  mem 
ories  of  the  caresses  of  the  child's  soft  little  hand, 
every  nerve  of  it  like  eyes  searching  her  inner 
most  being,  wherever  the  little  girl's  fingers  touched 
her. 

"Lady  Love,"  Malke  called  her.  "Lady  Love." 
How  sweetly  it  sounded  from  the  lips  of  the  affec 
tionate  and  grateful  child.  Could  she  ever  forget, 
Jane  wondered — when  together,  she  and  Samuel 
stole  softly  into  the  barber's  home  the  morning  after 
she  sent  the  piano  to  Malke  ?  It  was  an  old  one, 
bought  for  a  trifle.  She  had  often  spent  twice  the 
cost  of  it  for  a  hat ;  but  never  before  had  she  felt 
such  unutterable  joy  as  when  she  saw  Malke' s  white, 
delicate  fingers  move  over  the  keys,  and  heard  her 
play  out  her  little  soul  in  the  jubilance  of  wandering 


284  THE  MEDIATOE 

notes.  Unconscious  of  their  presence,  she  sang : 
"My  Lady  Love,  my  own  dear  Lady  Love." 

Then  there  was  Eivka,  whom  they  often  met  on 
these  expeditions  together — poor,  lame,  and  still  weak 
from  the  effects  of  her  long  illness ;  yet  almost  to  be 
envied,  Jane  thought.  Eivka  had  a  fixed  and  con 
suming  object  in  life ;  while  her  own  was  barren,  ex 
cept  where,  here  and  there,  it  touched  her  father's 
purposes,  which  often  seemed  to  her  ludicrous  and 
shallow. 

She  saw  everything  through  Samuel's  eyes,  and  he 
had  involuntarily  created  within  her  a  loathing  for 
herself,  and  a  strong  desire  to  make  amends  for  the 
meaningless  leisure  of  her  existence.  What  to  do,  or 
how  to  give  her  life  direction,  was  still  an  undecided 
question  ;  but  she  knew  that  she  could  no  longer  live 
the  kind  of  life  which  her  social  station  demanded. 

Unfortunately,  Samuel  had  not  only  come  between 
Jane  and  her  manner  of  life,  he  had  unconsciously 
stepped  between  her  and  her  lover.  Bob  Pitkin  and 
she  had  been  playmates  and  friends,  as  long  as  she 
could  remember,  and  that  they  were  not  engaged  was 
no  fault  of  Bob's.  All  their  friends  expected  them  to 
marry  each  other,  and  as  Jane  was  "getting  on  in 
years,"  being  twenty-six,  they  thought  that  the  mar 
riage  must  soon  take  place.  It  would,  in  all  prob 
ability,  have  been  a  case  of  marriage  by  public  opin 
ion,  had  not  Samuel  been  brought,  bruised  and  un 
conscious,  to  Peniel  Heights. 


THE  MEDIATOR  CHOSEN  285 

It  was  stupid  of  Bob  to  be  jealous  of  this  Jew  ;  and 
yet  Jane  realized  that  she  cared  for  Samuel  more 
than  she  ever  had  cared  for  any  of  her  father's  pro 
tege's.  She  also  realized  that  she  had  bestowed  more 
thought  upon  him  than  she  ever  had  upon  any  other 
man,  not  excepting  Bob. 

To-day  was  Samuel's  last  day  at  Peniel  Heights. 
He  was  to  go  back  to  the  East-side,  to  plant  there  a 
new  Peniel,  where  rich  and  poor  might  meet,  and 
where  Gentile  and  Jew  should  serve  one  another. 
Some  spot  there  must  be,  in  that  great  desert  of 
the  East-side,  which  his  genius  and  his  passion 
might  re-create  into  an  oasis  that  should  prove  a  uni 
fying  centre  for  Jew  and  Gentile,  — where,  in  short,  a 
new  race  might  be  born,  which  should  know  noth 
ing  of  the  ancient  hate  and  the  ancient  wrongs. 

Mr.  Bruce  had  many  misgivings  regarding  these 
plans,  and,  when  Jane  reached  the  house,  she  heard 
the  men  in  the  library  in  animated  discussion. 
Samuel  was  speaking  earnestly. 

"I  am  a  Jew,  Mr.  Bruce,  in  my  innermost  soul  a 
Jew  ;  and  never  so  truly  one  as  now,  since  I  have 
known  you.  You  have  made  me  proud  of  my 
heritage.  I  am  no  longer  ashamed  to  be  branded  by 
a  Jewish  name.  I  shall  return  to  my  people  and  en 
deavour  to  bring  them  back  to  Israel's  God  and  to 
His " 

Mr.  Bruce  interrupted  him.     "  To  His  whatt " 

"To  His  Christ,  Mr.  Bruce — to  Israel's  Messiah," 


286  THE  MEDIATOE 

"  That's  right,  my  boy  !  That's  just  what  I  want 
you  to  do,  and  I'll  stand  by  you  through  thick  and 
thin." 

"Ah!  Mr.  Bruce,  that  is  where  I  fear  you  will 
not ;  for  my  Christ  is  not  like  the  Christ  of  your 
theology.  I  doubt,  Mr.  Bruce,  that  my  preaching, 
if  I  do  preach,  will  please  you  ;  and  I  doubt  still 
more  that  you  will  be  satisfied  by  the  result  of  my 
labours.  I  can't  go  after  the  souls  of  my  people,  as 
our  Pany  used  to  go  after  rabbits.  I  have  no  scheme 
of  salvation  ;  nor  shall  I  elucidate  to  men  the  doc 
trine  of  the  Trinity.  Oh  !  Mr.  Bruce,  I  can't  wipe 
out  of  my  own  soul  Israel's  ancient  battle-cry : 
1  Hear  !  Oh,  Israel !  The  Lord  thy  God  is"  one 
God  ! '  And  I  will  not,  and  cannot,  wipe  it  out  of 
Israel' s  consciousness. ' ' 

"You  are  not  a  Unitarian,  are  you?"  Mr.  Bruce 
asked  ;  deep  displeasure  in  his  voice. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  am,  Mr.  Bruce.  I  only 
know  that  I  love  this  Christ,  born  of  my  race,  and 
that  I  cannot  think  of  my  life  without  Him.  I  shall 
preach  Christ.  I  shall  live  Him  if  I  can — and 
as  I  can,  and  take  upon  myself  the  consequences.  I 
am  going  to  be  a  brother  to  my  people  and  make  of 
them,  by  God's  help,  brothers  to  the  human  race. 
Oh  !  Mr.  Bruce  !  I  am  a  Jew — but  I  am  more  than 
that — I  am  a  human  being  !  Christ  has  made  me 
that!" 

"Now  don't   begin  with  your  Brotherhood  doc- 


THE  MEDIATOR  CHOSEN  287 

trine!"  said  Mr.  Bruce.  "That  won't  save  men! 
It's  the  blood  of  Christ  that  saves  ! " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Bruce.  It's  the  blood  of  Christ,  shed 
anew  each  day.  Your  blood,  and  my  blood,  which  is 
His.  I  believe  that,  and  you  believe  that.  There 
are  just  words  between  us  ;  but  we  can't  understand 
each  other.  I  think  your  daughter  understands  me 
better  than  you  do.  Perhaps  she  can  interpret  us  to 
each  other.'' 

"  Jane  is  a  heretic  ! "  Mr.  Bruce  said  disgustedly  ; 
"and  I  am  afraid  she  has  corrupted  you  by  her 
Higher  Criticism  and  her  Browning." 

"Oh!  Mr.  Bruce!  You  are  very  much  like  my 
dear  father.  Between  him  and  me  there  are  just 
words ;  yet  he  has  rolled  a  world  between  us.  Don't 
let  us  quarrel,  Mr.  Bruce.  Here  in  your  home  I  have 
found  Christianity,  without  the  barriers  of  Church 
and  priest ;  don't  put  the  barrier  of  words  between 
me  and  my  faith !  I  do  long,  as  never  before,  to 
preach — not  by  words  only,  nor  by  symbols — I  am 
weary  of  both.  I  want  to  preach  by  my  life,  by  your 
life,  by  your  daughter's  life.  If  you  cannot  help  me 
in  this,  as  you  thought  you  could,  I  shall  do  it  at  the 
presser's  bench  ; — anywhere ;  but  somewhere  and 
somehow." 

11  "No,  my  boy,  we  shan't  quarrel.  You  shall  go 
with  my  blessing,  if  only  you  go  in  Christ's  name. 
And  you  shall  have  my  help  and  Jane's  help." 

Jane  could  listen  in  silence  no  longer.     She  opened 


288  THE  MEDIATOE 

the  door  and  threw  herself  into  her  father's  arms, 
crying :  "  Oh  !  You  dear  old  papa  ;  you  make  me 
so  happy ! " 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sunday  afternoon,  and  they  sat 
silently  upon  the  broad  piazza,  watching  the  spark 
ling  river  in  its  battle  with  the  advancing  tide,  which 
vainly  tried  to  keep  it  from  the  sea — and  each  was 
busy  with  his  own  deep  thoughts. 

It  was  a  great  Sabbath  ;  quiet  and  happy.  All  the 
ancient  prophecies  seemed  to  ripen  into  fulfillment, 
and  Samuel's  childhood's  dreams  almost  became  re 
alities.  He  drew  his  Browning  from  his  pocket,  and 
read  aloud  from  "  Saul."  How  truly  the  David 
spirit  spoke  out  of  this,  his  kinsman.  How  mag 
nificently  Samuel's  soul  responded  to  that  great  line 
which  closes  this  most  wonderful  poem:  "See  the 
Christ  stand  ! "  These  three  could  see  the  Christ ; 
and,  inwardly,  they  all  thanked  God  that  they  could. 

Then  Samuel  read  from  "Pippa  Passes"  — 

"  ' each  only  as  God  wills  can  work. 

God's  puppets,  best  and  worst,  are  we. ' 

"What  a  great  Calvinist  Browning  was,  Miss 
Bruce,"  Samuel  said,  dropping  the  book  and  watch 
ing  the  tide  still  beating  against  the  river ;  while  the 
boats  slowly  floated  with  the  stream.  "  That  is  true, 
so  true,"  he  continued.  "The  river  will  find  the 
ocean — must  find  the  ocean — we  all  can  but  do  His 
will 


THE  MEDIATOE  CHOSEN  289 

11 ' each  only  as  God  wills  can  work. 

God's  puppets,  best  and  worst,  are  we.'  " 

"I  believe  all  that,"  Jane  Bruce  said;  her  face 
beaming  from  pleasure,  and  her  pride  in  him.  "I 
believe  all  that,  except  that  you  are  l  God's  puppet.' 
You  are  the  'captain  of  your  soul,'  and  of  other 
souls." 

"Do  you  believe  that,  Miss  Bruce?  Do  you  be 
lieve  that  I  shall  lead  men  into  the  kingdom— from 
earth  to  heaven  ?  " 

" I  do  believe  in  you— Mr.  Gregory — you  will  'Be 
to  men  a  star '  " 

"No,  no!"  he  cried.  "Don't  say  that,  Miss 
Bruce !  Not  a  star !  It's  dangerous — that  is  how 
Paracelsus  fell — that  is  how  angels  fall  from  heaven. 
Paul  is  safer.  Let  me  but  be  '  less  than  the  least 
among  all  the  saints ' !  I  have  no  desire  to  shine ;  but 
I  do  long  to  serve.  How  I  shall  accomplish  it  I  do  not 
know ;  but,  as  God  wills— as  God  wills,"  he  repeated. 

"  I  trust  you  to  do  the  will  of  God,"  Jane  said  em 
phatically;  her  beautiful  eyes  clouded  by  tears. 
"  But  to  know  the  will  of  God  ! " 

"Ah,  me!  Miss  Bruce.  I  wish  I  might  be  your 
Providence  as  you  and  your  father  have  been  mine ; 
but  you  do  not  need  me.  I  trust  you  to  do  God's  will 
as  He  wills  it.  Now  I  must  go." 

The  carriage,  with  his  scanty  luggage,  was  waiting 
for  him  at  the  foot  of  the  steps.  He  looked  back 
upon  the  house — his  soul's  birthplace;  then  at  the 


290  THE  MEDIATOR 

palisades — those  mighty  cathedral  walls,  which  helped 
him  to  voice  his  new-won  faith — and  last,  the  river — 
which,  in  imagination,  had  carried  him  to  the  great 
sea  of  humanity  on  the  East-side.  Then  he  looked 
long  at  his  friends,  and  pressed  Mr.  Bruce' s  hand, 
vainly  trying  to  thank  him. 

"No,  don't  you  thank  me,  my  boy!"  his  genial 
host  repeated  over  and  over  again.  ' '  Thank  God, 
and  I  thank  Him  for  you.  Go  and  preach  l  The  un 
searchable  riches '  of  God — in  Christ  Jesus ;  go  and 
break  down  '  the  middle  wall  of  prejudice  between 
Jew  and  Gentile.  We'll  be  with  you.  Only  preach 
Christ.  Eemember  that  He  alone  can  save ! " 

Then  Samuel  turned  to  Jane.  As  he  looked  into 
her  eyes,  full  of  the  sunlight,  and  of  the  deeper,  richer 
light  within — and  as  he  saw  her  face,  reflecting  the 
nobility  of  her  soul — he  felt  again,  as  he  had  felt  on 
the  steamer,  that  this  was  his  Madonna— saintly,  and 
pure  and  true ! 

The  warm  pressure  of  her  hand-clasp,  as  she  re 
turned  his,  caused  the  blood  to  surge  through  his 
heart,  like  a  fire — pure  as  any  which  ever  glowed  on 
sacred  altar  ;  nevertheless,  it  burned — and  burned  the 
deeper,  because  it  was  Divine. 

"Are  there  not — Miss  Bruce — two  points  in  the 
adventure  of  the  diver?  One — when,  a  beggar,  he 
prepares  to  plunge " 

There  Samuel  hesitated,  and  Jane  continued  :  "  One 
—when  a  prince  he  rises  with  his  pearl  ^  " 


THE  MEDIATOR  CHOSEN  291 

Then,  in  a  voice  ringing  from  courage  and  hope, 
Samuel  added :  "  Festus,  I  plunge  ! " 

""We  wait  you  when  you  rise !  "  responded  Jane  ; 
and  Samuel  bent  reverently  over  her  outstretched 
hand,  and  kissed  it 


XXV 
JANE 

ME.  BEUCE  did  not  like  Samuel's  plan  for 
the  redemption  of  the  people  of  the  East- 
side.  He  called  it  "  bread  and  butter 
salvation  "  ;  and  long  and  heated  were  the  arguments 
between  the  two  men,  concerning  the  respective 
merits  of  their  widely  divergent  methods.  Mr.  Bruce 
believed  that  salvation  for  the  Jews  meant,  primarily, 
the  acceptance  of  Jesus  Christ  as  a  Saviour  from  sin  ; 
while  the  younger  man  contended  that  the  Jews  must 
first  have  the  chance  to  know  a  Christ  worth  accept 
ing,  and  that  Christian  people  must  so  exemplify 
Christ  in  their  lives  that  the  Jews  would  think  Him 
worthy  of  imitation. 

Single-handed,  Samuel  plunged  into  the  mazes  of 
the  Ghetto,  where  poverty  and  vice  were  thickest. 
Patiently  he  toiled,  earning  his  daily  bread,  first  at 
the  presser's  bench,  later  by  his  pen,  with  which  he 
was  very  successful.  Gradually,  he  gathered  about 
him  a  group  of  followers  and  helpers,  who  under 
stood  his  motives  and  shared  his  faith  in  the  redeem 
ing  power  of  the  teachings  of  Jesus.  It  is  doubtful 
that  Samuel  could  have  successfully  passed  an  exam 
ination  in  Protestant  theology  ;  but  it  is  certain  that 
his  love  for  the  Christ,  and  his  passion  to  redeem  men 

292 


JANE  293 

from  sin  and  its  consequences,  recommended  him  to 
those  Christians  who  had  caught  the  social  passion  of 
the  disciples  of  Jesus. 

To  Samuel,  Christ  was  the  Messiah,  his  own  Ee- 
deemer.  Through  Christ,  his  life  had  received  mean 
ing,  his  purposes  direction  ;  and  the  words  of  Jesus 
became  to  him  the  law  of  social  conduct.  Through 
his  study  of  Tolstoy's  writings,  his  ideas  became  more 
firmly  established,  and,  in  sharing  them  with  Jane 
Bruce,  the  two  had  come  into  complete  harmony 
upon  this  subject,  to  the  great  chagrin  of  Mr.  Bruce. 
His  orthodoxy,  however,  never  interfered  with  his 
supporting  the  East-side  work,  especially  as  more  and 
more  he  recognized  the  breadth  of  Samuel's  plans  and 
the  largeness  of  his  vision. 

Just  as  the  work  began  to  show  tangible  results, 
Mr.  Bruce  died  suddenly,  on  the  way  to  his  office. 
According  to  his  will,  the  burden  of  administering 
his  large  estate  fell  upon  his  daughter.  As  Mr.  Bruce 
left  the  bulk  of  his  great  wealth  for  "  the  salvation  of 
the  Jews,"  Jane  decided  to  broaden  the  scope  of  the 
down-town  work,  in  which  Samuel  was  so  successful, 
and  to  augment  it  by  making  Peniel  Heights  part  of 
it — in  reality,  sharing  her  home  with  those  unfortu 
nates  whose  lives  Samuel  touched,  and  who  were  in 
need  of  fresh  air,  good  food,  and  sympathizing 
friends. 

A  few  weeks  after  Mr.  Bruce' s  death,  when  Jane 
was  still  crushed  by  the  heaviness  of  her  grief, 


294  THE  MEDIATOB 

visitors  were  announced.  They  were  her  pastor,  Mr. 
Cartwright  the  senior  deacon  of  Peniel  church,  and 
one  or  two  other  members  of  it,  intimate  friends  of 
her  father,  who  were  not  only  concerned  in  Jane's 
welfare,  but  were  anxious  to  be  helpful  in  the  proper 
disposal  of  her  trust. 

"Good  afternoon,  Dr.  Wright,"  Jane  said,  greet 
ing  her  pastor.  1 1  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Cartwright  ? ' ' 
Then,  seeing  Bob  Pitkin,  "and  you  too,  Bob?"  A 
smile  passed  over  her  pale  face,  as  she  asked :  "Is 
Saul  also  among  the  prophets?  I  am  glad  you  have 
come.  I  do  need  my  friends.  It  is  good  to  see  you 
all.  "Won't  you  sit  down  ? " 

When  they  were  seated,  a  solemn  silence  fell.  It 
was  broken  by  Dr.  Wright,  who,  by  virtue  of  his 
office,  became  the  spokesman  of  the  party. 

"You  know,  Jane,"  he  said  very  tenderly,  "that 
we  are  all  interested  in  your  plans  for  properly  ex 
ecuting  your  father's  will,  and  we  just  wondered  if  we 
could  advise  you  and  be  of  some  help1  to  you.  You 
know,  I  was  very  close  to  your  father." 

"Indeed,  Dr.  Wright,"  Jane  replied,  "I  should  be 
glad  to  listen  to  advice,  if  I  had  not  already  made  my 
plans  ;  but  I  shall  be  very  grateful  for  any  help  which 
my  friends  will  give  me." 

"We  have  heard  about  your  plans,  Jane,"  Bob  in 
terposed,  "and  it  is  about  those  very  plans  that  we 
want  to  talk  to  you.  We  are  afraid  that  you  are  being 
imposed  upon." 


JANE  295 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Bob,  for  coming  to  me  at 
this  time  of  need.  I  didn't  know  that  you  were 
especially  interested  in  missionary  work.  How  do 
you  think  I  am  being  imposed  upon  t " 

"You  are  being  imposed  upon  by  that  socialistic 
anarchist,  on  whom  you  are  throwing  your  father's 
money  away,  Jane." 

Miss  Bruce  rose  quickly,  her  pale  cheeks  glowing. 
"Mr.  Pitkin,"  she  said  sharply,  "whom  do  you 
mean  f  What  do  you  mean  t " 

Mr.  Cartwright  laid  his  hand  gently  on  Jane's  arm, 
saying:  "See  here,  Jane,  don't  get  excited.  Let's 
talk  this  matter  over  calmly.  Your  father  left  his 
money  for  the  salvation  of  the  Jews ;  from  what  we 
have  heard,  you  are  proposing  to  endow  a  sort  of  set 
tlement  on  the  East-side  with  that  converted  Jew,  who 
was  ill  here  so  long,  in  charge.  Do  you  expect  to 
save  the  Jews  by  kindergartens  and  soup-kitchens  and 
hospitals,  and  the  other  things  you  are  proposing  to 
put  in  !  Moreover,  Jane,  that  young  man  has  flown 
the  track  completely  ;  he  is  a  socialist.  I  have  even 
heard  that  he  is  an  anarchist." 

"  Mr.  Cartwright,"  Jane  replied,  making  a  visible 
effort  to  be  calm,  "I  am  in  no  mood  for  argument ; 
but  let  me  assure  you  that  the  man  to  whom  I  am  en 
trusting  so  much  of  my  father's  fortune  is  neither 
a  socialist  nor  an  anarchist,  but  a  Christian — a 
true  follower  of  Jesus.  I  can  wish  for  myself  no 
greater  blessing  than  to  have  such  faith  as  he  has, 


296  THE  MEDIATOE 

and  to  have  the  power  to  do  the  work  that  he  is 
doing." 

"How  many  souls  has  he  saved,  Jane  ?  "  her  pastor 
asked. 

"  My  dear  Dr.  "Wright,  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't 
think  I  care.  I  can  tell  you  though  how  many  chil 
dren  he  has  rescued  from  the  enslavement  of  labour, 
how  many  boys  he  has  saved  from  certain  business 
interests  which  made  an  assault  upon  their  appetites  ; 
I  can  tell  you  how  many  druggists  he  has  had 
arrested  for  selling  cocaine  to  those  boys,  and  how 
many  saloon-keepers  he  has  had  fined  for  selling 
them  liquor.  I  can  tell  you  exactly,  Dr.  Wright, 
how  many  girls  he  has  saved  from  shame  and  dis 
grace;  but  how  many  souls  he  has  saved  will  be 
known  only  when  the  book  that  is  'sealed  with  seven 
seals'  is  opened.  Their  names  are  written  in  that 
book." 

"  That's  not  religion,  Jane,  that's  not  religion. 
That's  philanthropy ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Cartwright. 
"Your  father  left  his  money  for  the  salvation  of  the 
Jews,  to  save  their  souls,  to  make  them  believe  in 
Jesus  ;  that's  what  your  father's  money  was  left  for." 

"Mr.  Cartwright,"  Jane  replied,  "the  Jews  will 
never  believe  in  Jesus  until  we  can  convince  them 
that  He  is  the  Messiah — the  deliverer.  The  reason 
that  the  work  of  the  '  Society  for  the  Conversion  of 
the  Jews '  has  been  at  all  effective,  is,  that  my  father, 
who  founded  it,  was  a  sincere  friend  of  the  Jews — 


JANE  297 

that  he  became  their  deliverer  in  Jesus'  name. 
This  home,  as  you  know,  was  rarely  without  a 
Jewish  guest,  and,  through  my  father's  love  and  kind 
ness,  many  Jews  learned  to  believe  in  the  love  of  the 
Son  of  God. 

" Gentlemen,"  Jane  continued,  "I  am  willing  to 
make  you  a  committee  to  dispose  of  my  father's  for 
tune,  if  you  will  open  your  homes  to  poor,  neglected 
and  wretched  Jews,  as  my  father  did,  and  as  I  in 
tend  to.  How  many  Jewish  guests  should  you  like 
for  next  Sunday,  Mr.  Cartwright  t  Dr.  Wright,  how 
many  Jewish  children  do  we  want  in  Peniel  Sunday- 
school  f  Bob,  how  many — but  I  forget ;  you  are  a 
drone  in  the  hive.  I  mustn't  ask  anything  of  you." 

"Jane,"  Bob  spoke  again.  "That  isn't  common 
sense.  You've  gone  daft  on  this  whole  subject  You 
are  an  extremist,  just  like  that  crazy  socialist" 

"  Am  I  an  extremist,  Dr.  Wright  1 "  Jane  turned 
inquiring  eyes  upon  her  pastor.  "Have  you  not 
taught  me  these  same  things  ?  How  many  times  have 
I  heard  you  say  that  true  Christianity  is  to  accept  all 
men  as  brothers,  and  to  treat  them  as  such  ;  and  I  be 
lieve  it,  every  word  of  it.  Christianity  without 
brotherhood  is  not  true  Christianity.  Take  that 
away  from  it,  and  you  take  out  its  core ;  yet  now, 
Dr.  Wright,  when  I  am  ready  to  act  upon  your 
preaching,  you  come  to  save  me  from  my  folly.  I 
want  to  build,  in  the  heart  of  Jewish  misery,  a  me 
morial  to  my  father,  a  settlement,  if  you  choose  to 


298  THE  MEDIATOE 

call  it  so.  That,  I  shall  build  with  my  own  money. 
I  want  to  fill  the  place  just  as  full  of  human  love  as 
I  can  fill  it — to  interpret  to  the  Jews  the  Divine  love. 
When  they  pass  that  building,  and  are  touched  by  its 
ministry,  they  will  know  that  Christianity  is  not 
an  idle  dogma,  not  something  to  hate,  or  to  be  hated 
by." 

1 1  Hm  ! — hm  ! ' '  — Dr.  Wright  stammered :  "I  must 
confess,  Jane,  your  project  sounds  well ;  yet  it  stag 
gers  me.  You  know  we  have  not  been  idle  at  Peniel ; 
we  have  always  supported  the  Jewish  Mission,  and 
we  give  liberally  to  home  missions." 

"  Do  you  know,  Dr.  Wright,  how  much  your  mis 
sionary  accomplishes  on  the  East-side?  Do  you 
realize  that  he  is  like  a  '  needle  in  a  hay  stack '  T 
And  a  pretty  dull,  stupid  needle,  I  often  think. 
What  does  the  East-side  care  for  Mr.  Eazinsky's 
sermons  on  the  ( Trinity,'  or  on  'the  Fulfillment  of 
Prophecy '  T  Nothing  ! " 

"And  yet,  daughter,  it  is  by  the  'foolishness  of 
preaching'  that  the  people  are  to  be  converted." 

"That  is  true,  Dr.  Wright ;  by  'the  foolishness  of 
preaching,'  but  not  by  foolish  preaching.  I  think  I 
heard  you  say  that  once,  and  that's  what  Mr.  Eazin 
sky's  preaching  is.  It  insults  the  intellect  of  those 
who  hear  it — it  is  meaningless  to  most  of  them,  and, 
at  best,  but  few  listen  ;  for  he  is  distrusted  and  hated 
by  the  Jews.  We'll  never  convert  people  to  Chris 
tianity  unless  they  see  it  at  work.  These  people  come 


JANE  299 

from  countries  where  the  cross  has  been  not  only  a 
stumbling-block,  but  a  club  to  knock  them  down. 
The  name  of  Jesus  has  been  to  them  what  the  name 
of  the  l  Bogeyman '  is  to  a  frightened  child.  I  want 
to  try  a  new  way,  and  see  if  it  works.  If  it  doesn't 
work,  then  the  Home  Missionary  Society  may  have 
every  cent  of  my  father's  money.  Does  that  satisfy 
you,  gentlemen  t" 

"Ye-es,  ye-es,"  Mr.  Cartwright  replied,  half 
heartedly.  "Of  course,  you  have  a  right  to  do  ex 
actly  as  you  please  with  your  father's  money,  Jane  ; 
but — e — we — think — e — that  there  is — a — an  uncom 
mon  lot  of  Jews  coming  out  here  to  see  you." 

"  Is  that  the  trouble,  Mr.  Cartwright?  are  you  con 
cerned  about  the  society  I  am  in  ?  Are  you  afraid 
that  I  shall  be  contaminated  by  these  Jews  ?  You 
needn't  worry  ;  I  am  proof  against  Jewish  microbes. 
My  father  made  me  immune." 

Just  then,  Bob  burst  out,  in  his  old  familiar  way  : 

"  Jane,  this  business  is  going  too  far — you'll  have 
to  stop  it.  You'll  run  us  out  of  Peniel.  Honest, 
Jane,  you  can't  take  a  train  from  the  city  now,  with 
out  its  being  full  of  Jews  ;  men,  women  and  children, 
dozens  of  them  and  all  getting  off  at  Peniel  Station. 
We  had  grown  reconciled  to  seeing  your  father  bring 
out  a  specimen  every  few  weeks  ;  but  you' re  bringing 
all  the  twelve  tribes  !  " 

"  Only  eleven,  Bob.  Don't  you  know  that  one  of 
the  twelve  tribes  was  lost  t " 


300  THE  MEDIATOR 

"  Well,  Jane,  I  wish  the  other  eleven  had  been  lost 
too.  Anyway,  why  do  you  want  to  saddle  them  on 
to  us?  They  don't  need  much  encouragement  to 
come.  They'll  get  here  fast  enough  without  your  as 
sistance.  They  are  in  Harlem,  ready  to  cross  the 
bridge,  and  they  have  invaded  Brooklyn,  so  that  the 
churches  are  being  turned  into  synagogues.  Peniel 
is  the  only  edge  of  this  town  that  is  Jew  free,  and 
here  you  come  with  your  crazy,  new  fangled  plans  for 
converting  the  Jews ;  and  they  just  swarm  out  here." 

"I  regret,  gentlemen,"  Jane  said,  ignoring  Bob's 
tirade,  "that  my  plans  are  distasteful  to  you ;  yet  I 
do  not  think  that  I  can  change  them.  I  wish  Peniel 
Heights  to  remain  what  it  has  always  been — a  conse 
crated  place — consecrated  to  human  need,  to  human 
suffering,  and  free,  perfectly  free  from  hate  of  either 
race  or  class.  Yet  I  do  not  wish  to  be  stubborn  in 
this  matter  ;  and  as  you  all  dislike  the  Jews,  I'll  give 

up  my  plan  of  bringing  Jews  here  as  my  guests " 

.  "  Good  for  you,  Jane  ! "  Bob  interrupted. 

"  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Bob,  I  have  not  finished. 
I'll  give  up  my  plan  of  bringing  Jews  to  Peniel 
Heights.  I'll  bring  Italians.  They  are  picturesque, 
Dr.  Wright,  and  you  do  so  love  Italy.  How  about 
the  Italians'?  I'll  trade  the  Jews  for  the  Italians.  I 
have  no  race  prejudice.  They  are  all  the  same  to  me 
— what  do  you  say,  Bob  1 " 

"No,  Jane,  no  dagos — for  heaven's  sake,  no 
dagos  1" 


JANE  301 

Mr.  Cartwright  shook  his  head  vigorously  and 
negatively ;  Dr.  Wright  said  nothing. 

"Well,  let's  drop  the  'dagos,'  as  you  call  them, 
Bob.  I  am  not  especially  fond  of  them.  How  about 
the  Polanders  ?  Polanders,  Mr.  Cartwright,  are 
among  the  most  industrious  of  our  citizens.  They  do 
occasionally  get  drunk  ;  but  then,  so  do  some  of  the 
residents  of  our  Peniel.  How  about  the  Polanders, 
Mr.  Cartwright!  No  I  Then,  as  you  are  not  in  a 
trading  mood,  I  fear  that  I  shall  have  to  carry  out 
my  original  plan. 

"I  am  sorry,  Dr.  Wright,  that  you  came  too  late. 
You  should  have  come  two  generations  ago.  You 
know,  my  father  inherited  his  love  for  the  Jews  from 
his  father.  It  is  a  passion  of  the  Bruce  family — and, 
as  Dr.  Bosnik  would  say  :  l  It  is  incurable.'  " 

Bob  lingered  after  the  others  had  gone. 

"  Why  don't  you  go,  Bob  1 " 

"  Because  I  don't  want  to." 

"  That's  a  pretty  good  reason.  It's  supposed  to  be 
a  woman's  reason,  isn't  it? " 

"And  a  man's." 

"A  man's  reason,  Bob?  "  Jane  asked,  with  her 
fine  sarcasm. 

"Well,  Jane,  I  did  think  you'd  listen  to  me! 
This  plan  of  yours  is  not  only  foolish,  it's  crazy  !  I'll 
bet  you  dollars  to  doughnuts,  that  it  will  break  you 
up,  if  it  doesn't  break  you  down." 

"Thank  you  very  much  for  your  solicitude,  Bob; 


302  THE  MEDIATOE 

but  I  am  coming  on  finely.  I  miss  dear  papa  dread 
fully  ;  although  I  am  growing  more  self-reliant  than  I 
ever  thought  I  could  be.  You  know  I  always  leaned 
on  papa  and  thought  that  I  couldn't  do  anything 
alone ;  but  I  seem  to  have  the  strength  of  a  giant." 

"You'll  need  it,  Jane,  you'll  need  it." 

"I  suppose  I  shall,  Bob  ;  with  all  my  old  friends 
against  me.  I  shall  '  fight  it  out  on  this  line '  though, 
if  it  does  '  break  me.up,  or  break  me  down.'  " 

"You'll  call  on  me,  won't  you,  Jane,  when  you 
need  help  t  Of  course,  you  know  I'll  not  help  you  in 
this  crazy  scheme — but  anything  else,  Jane — anything 
else." 

"  I  shall  never  ask  you  to  come  to  me,  Bob." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,  Jane,  that  you  don't  want 
me  to  come?  You  can't  be  so  cruel." 

1 '  Don' t  do|the  pathetic,  Bob.  It  isn'  t  becoming.  It 
wouldn't  break  your  heart  if  you  never  saw  me  again. 
You'll  be  welcome  here,  of  course,  whenever  you 
choose  to  come.  You  know  I  have  no  race  preju 
dice." 

"Jane,  I  want  to  tell  you  here  and  now,  for  the 
last  time,  that  I  shan't  step  through  your  gate  if  you 
persist  in  your  foolish  purpose.  I  mustn't!  I  can't! 
I  owe  something  to  my  self-respect ! " 

"How  your  self-respect  must  suffer  when  you  goto 
the  Cafe"  Alhainbra,  Bob.  But  you'll  find  some  of 
the  same  people  here — some  of  the  same  women  who 
have  been  bought  and  sold  at  Moskowsky's— only, 


JANE  303 

they'll  not  be  for  sale  here,  Bob,  not  here !    Your 
self-respect  will  be  in  no  danger  here  ! 

"Don't  think,  Bob,  that  I  am  urging  you  to  come. 
I  don't  want  you.  If  things  go  well  with  me,  I  shan't 
need  you,  and,  if  things  go  wrong  with  me,  I  know 
where  to  get  comfort." 

"Yes,  that  confounded  Hebrew " 

"  Yes,  Bob  ;  that  same  Hebrew  who  comforts  your 
mother,  when  she  needs  comfort  and  help  ;  that  same 
Hebrew  who  inspires  all  those  who  are  trying  to  bring 
back  the  joy  of  life  to  the  joyless  city ;  that  same 
Hebrew  whose  words  were  the  first  sacred  words  you 
uttered  when  a  child.  Some  day,  when  you  crawl 
back  into  manhood  again,  as  I  hope  some  day  you 
will — you'll  be  on  your  knees,  asking  mercy  and  par 
don  in  the  name  of  that  same  Hebrew." 

"You  are  crazy,  Jane,  crazy  as  a  loon  ! " 

"Thank  you,  Bob.    Thank  you  for  the  compli 
ment.     I  shan't  dispute  you.     I  shan't  bear  you  any 
.  malice ;  only  leave  me,  leave  me,  and  don't  come 
back. 

"No,  no,  Bob!  You  mustn't !"  and  she  pushed 
aside  the  hand  that  would  have  grasped  hers.  "  No, 
not  another  word;  I  can't  stand  anything  more — 
good-bye." 

She  turned,  and  left  the  room ;  while  Bob,  under 
his  breath,  said  :  "  Darn  that  troublesome  Hebrew  ! " 

Alone,  on  the  veranda,  Jane  sat  through  the  dusk 


304  THE  MEDIATOR 

and  the  dark  ;  until  from  the  park  and  the  shore  of 
the  river  her  wards  came  to  say  good-night. 

Malke  was  among  them,  walking  unaided;  al 
though  still  walking  in  the  shadow.  A  green  shade 
protected  her  sensitive  eyes,  which  had  so  improved, 
that  she  could  see  her  Lady  Love's  face,  and  that 
made  the  child  happy. 

"Lady  Love,"  Malke  called,  when  she  was  ready 
for  bed,  "come,  kiss  me  good-night,  and  help  me 
say  my  prayers." 

Jane  went ;  but  although  she  was  sad  and  depressed, 
and  sorely  needed  comfort,  she  could  not  pray — for 
the  Christ's  face,  and  the  face  of  him  for  whom  her 
heart  yearned — were  one. 


XXVI 
THE  ANARCHIST  NUN 

,  oy,  oy  ! "  Eeb  Abraham  lamented,  as  he 
threw  himself  upon  the  couch,  which  had 
served  as  his  son's  bed,  a  little  more  than 
two  years  before. 

"Mine  enemies  should  reach  such  an  old  age  as  I 
have  reached  ! "  he  continued.  "  Who  wants  an  old 
man  in  America  ?  Who  cares  for  anything  I  write  in 
the  holy  tongue?  Who  wants  it  written  on  the  door 
posts  of  his  house,  that  he  is  a  Jew,  as  God,  blessed 
be  His  holy  name,  has  commanded  !  Nobody  !  Oy, 
oy,  oy !"  The  broken  springs  of  the  sofa  creaked 
and  groaned  beneath  him,  as  he  tried  to  find  that  part 
of  it  which  had  reluctantly  adjusted  itself  to  his 
body  ;  then  he  groaned  again. 

11  And  such  a  son !    Ach !    Ach  !    Such  a  son ! " 

The  barber,  in  an  adjoining  room,  was  still  awake  ; 
although  he,  too,  had  sought  the  place  of  least  resist 
ance  on  his  bed,  and  found  it. 

"No,  Eeb  Abraham,"  he  called  out,  into  the  thick 
of  the  old  man's  groaning ;  "  no,  Eeb  Abraham,  no 
body  cares  for  your  words,  written  in  the  holy  tongue ; 
because  they  are  dry,  and  dull,  and  have  no  life  in 
them.  They  are  not  poetry " 

"And  who  cares  for  your  poetry!"  the  old  man 
305 


306  THE  MEDIATOE 

interrupted,  tartly.  "I  get  something  out  of  my 
writing  in  the  holy  tongue,  and  I  am  doing  an  act 
well-pleasing  to  God — but  you  and  your  poetry — no 
one  cares  for  poetry  in  America,  and  to  God  it  is  an 
abomination.  You  are  an  abomination  also.  You 
live  like  a  heathen,  your  children  don't  know  the 
Sabbath  from  any  other  day,  and  you  eat  with  un- 
washen  hands." 

"Eeb  Abraham,"  the  barber  asked,  with  a  sleepy 
chuckle,  "what  does  the  Talmud  say  ?  Shall  a  man 
wash  his  hands  before,  or  after,  eating  a  ham  sand 
wich?" 

"Don't  blaspheme  ! "  cried Eeb  Abraham,  dislodg 
ing  himself  from  the  depression  in  the  sofa.  "You'll 
die  of  apoplexy  some  day ;  the  ham  sandwich  will 
stick  in  your  throat,  and  choke  you — that's  what  the 
Talmud  says." 

"Eeb  Abraham,"  the  barber  replied,  turning  in 
his  bed,  while  the  springs  protested  loudly ;  "if  all 
the  New  York  Jews  who  eat  ham  sandwiches  would 
die  of  apoplexy,  there  wouldn't  be  enough  Jews  left 
to  fill  the  Eivington  Street  synagogue. 

"It's  not  the  trepha  meat  that's  going  to  choke 
them,  it's  the  trepha  money  they  make.  Eeb  Abra 
ham,  if  you  only  knew !  You  don't  know — you 
don't  know  !  Your  son  knows.  He  is  a  golden  son, 
Eeb  Abraham,  a  golden  son !  He  knows  what  we 
suffer  from  the  Eosenfelts,  and  the  Eosenbaums  and 
the  Eosenheims,  and  the  rest  of  them,  that  drink  our 


THE  ANAECHIST  NUN  307 

blood,  and  eat  our  flesh,  and  grow  fat,  so  fat  they 
can't  breathe.  They  are  going  to  be  struck  by 
apoplexy,  but  not  from  eating  pork  !  " 

"Don't  mention  my  son!"  Eeb  Abraham  cried. 
"  Such  a  son  !  Such  a  son  !  " 

"Such  a  son!  Such  a  son!"  the  barber  echoed 
excitedly.  "A  prince,  a  captain  he  is  ! "  Then  the 
barber  sang  a  synagogue  tune,  to  which  he  fitted  his 
own  words,  as  they  passed  through  his  half-asleep 
brain. 

"  Arise,  my  beloved,  and  sing  a  song, 
Of  Jndah's  hurt,  of  Judah's  wrong, 
Of  Judah's  poor,  of  Jndah's  slain, 
Of  Jndah's  rich,  with  the  mark  of  Cain. 
Arise,  my  beloved,  and  sing  a  song " 

There,  the  fire  of  genius,  having  consumed  itself,  the 
poet  just  hummed  the  Sabbath  tune,  until  his  loud 
snoring  changed  the  sweet  melody  into  hideous  dis 
cord. 

Eeb  Abraham  still  groaned,  for  sleep  came  reluc 
tantly  to  him.  He  could  not  forget  his  son.  The 
world  around  him  would  not  allow  him  to  forget. 
His  son's  name  was  upon  the  lips  of  the  poorest  of 
the  Ghetto  dwellers.  A  Jewish  apostate  had  become 
their  champion.  A  baptized  Jew,  who  had  not  for 
saken  his  people — who  had  not  ceased  to  love  them — 
who  was  saving  their  daughters  from  shame,  and  who 
was  helping  to  redeem  the  Ghetto  from  its  ills,  and 
from  its  ill -repute — this  was  his  son.  All  day  long, 


308  THE  MEDIATOR 

the  old  man  had  heard  about  this  son.  He  hoped 
now,  that  he  had  heard  the  last  of  it  all ;  for  the  bar 
ber  was  sound  asleep.  Malke,  too,  strangely  enough, 
was  silent ;  but  hardly  had  her  father's  snoring  be 
gun  than  she  sat  up  in  her  bed,  and  asked  : 

11  Uncle  Abraham,  why  do  men  snore?  " 

"Child,"  the  old  man  cried,  complainingly,  "how 
shall  I  know  ?  I  suppose,  because  God  has  made  men 
so.  Now  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep.  You  always  ask 
questions— just  like  my  little  Samuel — oy,  oy  !  Just 
like  my  golden  boy  !  "  The  springs  of  the  old  couch 
shook,  as  he  tossed  miserably  about. 

"Oy!  Oy  !  Mine  enemies  should  reach  such  an 
old  age  as  I  have  reached  !  My  enemies,  my  worst 
enemies !  No  home — no  son — but,  as  God  wills  ! ' ' 
And  he  lay  still,  forcibly  composing  himself  to  sleep. 

11  Uncle  Abraham  ! "  Malke  was  calling  again. 

"Go  to  sleep,  I  say  !  " 

"Uncle  Abraham,  I  don't  believe  it  is  God's  will 
that  you  should  have  such  an  old  age.  You  could 
live  with  Samuel,  and  get  young  again,  if  you  would. 
He  makes  everybody  happy.  Everybody  talks  about 
him  and  the  good  he  does." 

"Malke,"  the  old  man  cried  angrily ;  "shall  Hive 
in  the  house  of  a  Goy  ?  A  house  which  is  also  a 
church,  where  they  baptize  people?  Never  will  I 
step  through  the  door  of  that  house !  Oy,  oy,  oy  ! 
That  I  should  see  the  day  when  my  son  is  a  mis 
sionary  ! " 


THE  ANAKCHIST  NUN  309 

Again  the  old  man  tried  to  forget  his  pain  in  sleep  ; 
but  again  Malke  called  through  the  dark  : 

"Uncle  Abraham,  why  do  you  hate  the  Chris 
tians!" 

11  Child,  you  will  kill  me  to-night  with  your  ques 
tions  !  Why  do  I  hate  them  ?  Because  they  hate 
me.  I  have  got  nothing  but  'mackes'  from  the 
Christians.  They  have  taken  my  son  away  from  me ! 
They  have  burned  down  my  house,  and  now  I  must  live 
in  exile !  Go  to  sleep,  Malke,  and  don' t  torment  me ! ' ' 

"Uncle  Abraham?"  Malke  called  again,"  do 
you  know  who  gave  me  my  piano? " 

"  What  do  I  care  for  your  piano  I    Let  me  sleep  ! " 

"  Uncle  Abraham,  it  was  the  Lady  Love  who  gave 
it  to  me  ;  and  she  built  the  hospital,  and  the  house  for 
Samuel." 

"Be  still  I  say  !  You  are  making  me  crazy  !  Let 
me  sleep ! " 

"  Uncle  Abraham,  you  know  my  eyes  are  get 
ting  better  and  that  the  Lady  Love  says  some  day  I 
can  see  as  well  as  she  does.  You  know  she  is  paying 
the  great  doctor  for  curing  my  eyes ;  and  Uncle 
Abraham,  the  Lady  Love  is  a  Christian,  and  you  love 
her ;  you  told  me  so.  Why  can't  you  love  Samuel  ?  " 

"Malke!"  Eeb  Abraham  almost  shrieked,  "for 
Heaven's  sake,  be  still !  What  have  I  done,  that 
God — blessed  be  His  holy  name  ! — should  so  afflict 
me?" 

Silence  fell ;  but  it  lasted  only  a  few  moments  ;  for 


310  THE  MEDIATOE 

the  child,  undismayed  by  the  old  man's  anger,  called 
again  : 

"  Uncle  Abraham  !  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Uncle  Abraham!"  The  child  sat  upright  in 
bed.  < '  Why  did  the  Jews  kill  the  Christians'  God? ' ' 

The  question,  so  like  Samuel's,  in  the  far  away 
past,  aroused  all  Eeb  Abraham's  brooding  wrath. 
He  rose  hastily,  and  went  to  the  child's  bed,  crying  : 
' '  If  you  don' t  stop,  Malke,  I'  11  punish  you.  I'  11  whip 
you !  Oy,  oy,  oy  1 " 

Then  he  stood  still  in  the  dark  ;  for  the  child  was 
sobbing.  A  door  opened,  and  Eivka,  lamp  in  hand, 
entered  the  room.  She  looked  out  of  place  in  the 
poor  little  kitchen.  Her  gown,  of  some  gauzy  fabric, 
fell  in  shimmering  waves  about  her,  and  her  bare 
arms  and  shoulders  shone  white,  in  the  lamplight. 

"Can't  you  be  patient  with  the  child,  Eeb  Abra 
ham?  Answer  her,  if  you  can.  You  can't?  That's 
it,  none  of  us  can  answer.  If  I  were  to  ask  the  Czar 
the  same  questions  he  couldn't  answer  them  either. 
He  is  crucifying  God's  son  every  day. 

"You  don't  understand,  Eeb  Abraham.  You're  a 
blind  child,  like  Malke.  Some  day  the  Czar's  chil 
dren  and  his  children's  children  are  going  to  ask  the 
same  questions — 'Why  did  you  kill  those  Eevolu- 
tionists,  those  sons  of  God?  Why  did  you  hate 
them  ? '  Eeb  Abraham,  they  are  going  to  ask  those 
same  questions,  in  heaven  and  hell,  if  there  are  such 


THE  ANAECHIST  NUN  311 

places.  Now  you  go  back  to  bed.  If  you  weren't  a 
child,  I'd  tell  you  that  you  are  a  fool  for  behaving  to 
wards  your  son  as  you  do,  because  he  is  a  Christian. 
He  is  a  better  Jew  than  I  am,  Eeb  Abraham.  I 
never  enter  a  synagogue  and  I  eat  pork  ;  I  don't  be 
lieve  in  anything.  Not  in  God,  nor  in  His  angels, 
nor  in  the  Talmud,  nor  in  your  Bible  ;  yet  you  don't 
run  from  me  as  if  I  had  smallpox.  Because  Samuel 
believes,  not  only  in  God  and  in  the  Bible,  but  be 
lieves  in  that  Messiah,  you  go  cra/y  over  it,  and  act 
as  if  he  had  committed  a  crime. 

"Eeb  Abraham,  where  is  there  another  boy,  born 
as  he  was  born,  who  is  doing  what  he  is  doing,  here 
in  New  York  ?  He  is  a  voice  in  the  city's  wilder 
ness.  Like  a  prophet  he  speaks,  and  they  tear  down 
the  dirty  rat-holes  of  houses,  and  build  better ;  he 
lifted  up  his  voice,  and  the  law-makers  heard  it,  and 
made  laws  to  protect  the  children.  What  hasn't  he 
done  in  the  last  year,  Eeb  Abraham  f  And  for  the 
Jews — yes,  for  the  Jews,  who  hate  him  because  he  has 
been  baptized ! 

"  Eeb  Abraham,  some  day,  when  it  is  too  late,  you'll 
want  to  go  to  your  son,  you'll  want  to  crawl  into  the 
shelter  of  his  house." 

"Not  as  long  as  I  live  !  Not  as  long  as  I  live  ! " 
reiterated  the  old  man.  "The  worms  shall  eat  my 
body  while  I  am  alive  if  I  ever  go  to  his  house — 
where  they  baptize  !  " 

"  Eeb  Abraham,  you're  a  child,   just  a  child ! 


312  THE  MEDIATOE 

Some  day  you'll  see  what  a  fool  you  have  been. 
Now,  go  to  sleep  ;  and  you,  Malke,  go  to  sleep,  too. 
Leave  the  poor  old  man  alone." 

"Bivka,  dear,"  Malke  cried,  extending  her  deli 
cate  fingers,  "  let  me  feel  you." 

"  Not  to-night,  dear.     Go  to  sleep ! " 

"Bivka,  I  can  smell  that  same  dress  that  I  don't 
like.  It  smells  like  wine  and  cigars,  it  goes  to  my 
lungs  so.  Bivka,  don't  wear  that  dress." 

"Hush,  childy  dear.  It's  the  only  nice  dress  that 
I  have  to  wear,  when  I  go  to  play  for  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen.  It's  my  work  dress,  sweetheart;  good 
night.  No,  don't  kiss  me,  Malke — not  to-night. 
Now  go  to  sleep,  my  poor  blind  children.  Good 
night,  Beb  Abraham." 

Down  the  stairs  she  went,  and  out  into  the  dark, 
towards  the  Bowery  and  Grand  Street — and  in  her 
shadow  walked  a  man  who,  hungry  for  a  glimpse  of 
his  father,  had  watched  the  windows  of  the  barber's 
home  all  the  evening.  A  man,  whose  noble  face  and 
purposeful  bearing,  marked  him  everywhere,  the  peer 
of  other  men — a  man,  whom  the  fallen  knew  as  their 
friend,  and  whom  their  traducers  knew  as  their 
enemy. 

The  Cafe"  Alhambra  in  Grand  Street,  on  the  East 
Side — "Moskowsky's  Place,"  as  it  was  more  often 
called — was  a  feature  of  the  Ghetto,  and  an  objective 
point  for  slumming  expeditions. 


THE  ANAECHIST  NUN  313 

It  was  not  native  to  the  Ghetto,  and  had  been 
transplanted  from  the  West  Side,  because  the  proprie 
tor  discovered  that  American  people  loosen  their 
purse  strings,  and  stretch  their  morals  most  quickly, 
when  they  can  blame  the  foreigner  for  the  iniquities 
which  they  commit. 

Moskowsky  was  a  Eussian  Jew,  who  had  graduated 
from  all  the  schools  of  vice  in  Europe,  and,  conse 
quently,  based  his  venture  on  past  experience.  He 
had  learned  that  certain  forms  of  wickedness  in  Paris 
were  maintained  especially  for  Americans,  who  wish 
to  see  the  deplorably  low  moral  condition  of  the 
French  people.  Being  a  keen  observer,  he  had  noted 
that  while  they  were  duly  shocked  by  what  they  saw, 
they  almost  always  enjoyed  the  experience. 

There  were  two  parts  to  the  Moskowsky  establish 
ment  :  one  down-stairs,  and  one  upstairs.  The  room 
upstairs,  reserved  for  Americans,  was  gorgeously  fur 
nished,  a  la  Russe,  and  the  walls  were  decorated  in 
scenes  from  Eussian  history.  There  were  numerous 
small,  curtained  recesses  for  champagne  suppers,  and 
other  questionable  and  expensive  diversions. 

The  basement  was  for  the  accommodation  of  Mos 
kowsky' s  frugal  Eussian  guests,  who  drank  cheap  tea, 
smoked  cheap  cigarettes,  and  were  quite  satisfied  with 
the  dilapidated  room,  void  as  it  was  of  either  beauty 
or  comfort. 

Upstairs  it  was  usually  crowded,  particularly  on 
Sunday  nights,  when  the  foreigner  is  supposed  to  be 


314  THE  MEDIATOE 

especially  happy  in  destroying  the  Sabbath  of  the 
Puritanical  American,  who  coines  in  large  numbers  to 
see  how  it  is  done. 

Moskowsky  surrounded  his  American  guests,  not 
only  by  all  the  tawdry  luxuries  of  Eussia,  he  also 
prepared  for  them  Eussian  entertainments,  with  a 
strong  American  flavour.  The  shrewd  Jew  knew 
that  the  American  is  not  long  satisfied  by  pleasures 
which  he  cannot  understand  ;  so  Moskowsky 's  singers 
and  dancers  mixed  their  native  repertoire  with  jigs, 
and  the  latest  tunes  from  vaudeville  land,  and  these 
selections  were  always  the  most  appreciated  on  the 
programme. 

The  Sunday  night  dinners  at  the  Caf6  Alhambra 
were  famous ;  for  they  were  composed  of  all  the  most 
tempting  dishes,  which,  by  their  superior  merit,  had 
won  places  of  honour  in  the  culinary  calendars  of  dif 
ferent  nations ;  and  although  they  were  alien  to  each 
other,  "one  touch  of" — garlic — made  "the  whole 
world  kin." 

Eivka  had  drifted  back  to  this  life,  because  her  un 
restrained  nature  ill-adapted  itself  to  social  conven 
tions.  She  was  a  failure  as  a  music  teacher,  a  career 
in  which  the  Bruces  had  tried  to  be  helpful  to  her. 
At  the  Cafe"  Alhambra,  she  could  sit  each  night  at 
the  piano,  beating  out  her  wild  spirit  in  Tschaikow- 
sky's  and  Chopin's  passionate  Slavic  music.  Then 
she  could  make  merry  until  daybreak  with  men  and 
women,  many  of  whom,  like  herself,  had  abandoned 


THE  ANAECHIST  NUN  315 

themselves  to  pleasure  that  they  might  forget  their 
pain. 

When  Samuel  followed  Eivka  into  the  Caf6  Al- 
harnbra  dinner  was  being  served.  The  room  was  full 
of  elegantly  attired  Americans,  many  of  them  chap 
eroned  by  Jewish  manufacturers,  who  were  showing 
their  Gentile  customers  the  sorest  spot  of  Judaism. 
The  odour  of  deliciously  cooked  food,  and  the  pungent 
fragrance  of  fine  wines  filled  the  air.  Young  women 
of  various  nationalities,  but  all  in  Eussian  peasant 
costume,  waited  upon  the  guests,  who  often  chatted 
and  joked  with  a  favourite  waitress.  Above  the  clat 
ter  of  dishes,  the  clink  of  glasses,  the  laughter,  the 
loud  conversation,  and  the  coming  and  going  of 
guests,  Eivka' s  music  rose,  plaintively  beautiful — the 
only  harmonious  sound  in  this  bedlam  of  noises.  A 
varied  musical  programme  of  remarkable  excellence 
was  given  ;  but  the  Americans  ate  the  food,  evidently 
unconscious  of  the  artistic  treat,  and  drank  in  the 
wines  more  eagerly  than  they  "drank  in"  the  music. 

Samuel  found  a  place  in  a  secluded  corner,  and 
watched  the  gay  crowd  ;  while  he  ate  as  modest  a  meal 
as  could  be  purchased.  Moskowsky  kept  up  prices 
in  this  part  of  his  establishment,  in  order  to  keep  out 
the  Eussian  Jews,  who  found  the  same  dishes,  less 
artistically  garnished  and  less  fancifully  named,  at 
lower  prices  down-stairs. 

Wistfully  and  anxiously  Samuel  watched  Eivka, 
who  sat  with  her  face  towards  him, — that  strong,  al- 


316  THE  MEDIATOE 

most  masculine,  face,  somewhat  softened  by  her  long 
illness.  Her  hair  had  grown,  and  the  soft,  auburn 
mass,  caught  loosely  and  low,  made  her  look  more 
womanly.  As  she  played,  she  mirrored  in  her  face 
the  passing  emotions  which  the  music  awoke  in  her 
soul,  and  Samuel's  heart  went  out  to  her  in  something 
more  than  pity  ;  for  he  knew  that  she  loved  him. 

With  the  ending  of  the  programme,  the  revelry 
began.  Bottles  of  champagne,  that  heavy  artillery 
which  so  quickly  levels  the  barriers  of  conventional 
ity — were  uncorked  ;  the  women  began  to  laugh 
loudly,  and,  when  the  first  scream  was  heard,  the 
abandonment  to  pleasure  was  complete. 

The  noise,  the  laughter,  the  scent  of  the  wines,  and 
the  perfume-laden  air — awoke  for  a  moment,  in 
Samuel,  those  terrific  forces  with  which  he  had 
grappled,  and  which  so  nearly  conquered  him  that 
night  on  Broadway, — forces  which  even  yet  swept 
over  him  more  often  than  he  liked  to  think. 

Eivka  was  as  merry  as  any  of  the  guests,  and 
seemingly  as  abandoned  to  pleasure ;  and  he  yearned 
to  go  after  her,  to  plunge  in,  and  pull  her  out  of  the 
mire. 

He  glanced  towards  her  again,  just  as  a  man,  whom 
he  recognized  as  Dr.  Eosnik's  son,  Sigismund,  led  her 
to  a  table,  around  which  sat  a  group  of  Americans. 
They  were  all  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of 
champagne,  and  among  them  Samuel  saw  Bob  Pit- 
kin.  Sigismund' s  business  was  to  lead  young  Ameri  - 


THE  ANAECHIST  NUN  317 

cans  through  the  labyrinths  of  foreign  New  York, 
pointing  out  its  various  features  ;  and  he  introduced 
Eivka  as  one  of  them. 

When  Samuel  saw  her  sit  down  with  the  drunken 
men,  he  felt  the  shame  of  it  all  crushing  him.  He 
longed  to  run  away,  but  could  not.  He  wanted  to 
cry  out,  as  he  did  on  Broadway  that  awful  night ; 
but  his  voice  had  gone  from  him.  Then  he  heard  an 
exclamation,  as  of  alarm.  Eivka  had  risen  from  her 
chair,  and  faced  the  man  opposite  her.  Samuel 
could  hear  her  words  plainly,  above  the  subsiding 
noise. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?  Who  do  you  think  I  am f 
I  am  an  artist!" 

11 A  piano-pounder !  and  she  calls  herself  an  artist ! 
Great  Scott !  what  airs  ! "  cried  one  of  the  Americans. 

"She  must  be  a  spring  chicken,  strayed  into  the 
wrong  coop,"  another  one  remarked. 

Sigismund  arose,  and  tried  to  put  his  arm  around 
Eivka  ;  but  she  gave  him  a  resounding  slap  in  the 
face.  By  this  time  the  room  was  in  an  uproar. 
The  guests,  having  been  rudely  disturbed,  were  not  in 
a  forgiving  mood,  and  uncomplimentary  comments 
upon  Eivka  flew  about. 

"Pretty  lame  duck,  ain't  she?" 

"Madder  than  a  lame  coon  ! " 

"Those  Sheeny  girls,  when  they  get  mad,  are  the 
worst  ever ! " 

Eivka  seated  herself  sullenly  at  the  piano,  and  be- 


318  THE  MEDIATOE 

gan  to  play,  trying  to  forget  herself  in  the  violence  of 
the  sounds  which  she  produced. 

"Get  out  of  here!"  screamed  one  half-drunk 
American  youth. 

"This  isn't  a  boiler  factory  ! " 

"Cut  it  out!" 

"Give  us  a  rest!"  The  chorus  of  voices  grew 
louder  and  harsher. 

"Letup!" 

"Dry  up!" 

"Shut  up!" 

Sigismund  sprang  to  the  piano,  and  removed  the 
prop  from  the  lid,  which  brought  it  crashing  down 
upon  the  instrument.  Eivka  stopped  playing,  while 
the  notes  she  had  struck  vibrated  on  the  air  until 
they  were  silenced  at  last  by  the  laughing  crowd, 
which  jeered  at  her.  No  one  seemed  to  pity  her ;  she 
did  not  expect  it,  she  was  not  used  to  it ;  yet  her  eyes 
searched  the  room,  looking  for  some  one  who  might 
understand  her.  Then  she  saw  Samuel,  and,  wheel 
ing  towards  the  piano  again,  she  bowed  her  head  in 
grief  and  shame. 

"Boo-hoo!  boo-hoo ! "  the  drunken  men  sur 
rounded  the  piano  and  mocked  her  in  her  grief. 

Some  one  laid  a  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  she 
knew  that  it  was  he,  even  before  he  called  her  name. 

Sigismund  recognized  Samuel,  and  cried:  "A 
priest  and  his  sweetheart,  a  nun  !  A  Jew  priest  and 
an  Anarchist  nun !  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he 


THE  ANAKCHIST  NUN  319 

shouted,  mounting  a  chair,  "  let  me  introduce  to  you 
the  Jew  priest  and  the  Anarchist  nun.  The  Jew 
priest  who  wants  to  shut  up  the  town,  and  the  Anar 
chist  nun  who  wants  to  burn  it  up." 

Samuel  had  taken  Eivka's  hand  and  was  leading 
her  out  of  the  place.  As  the  door  closed  behind 
them,  they  could  hear  Sigismund's  parting  gibe : 
''The  priest,  the  priest,  the  Jew  priest,  and  the  An 
archist  nun  I" 


xxvn 

RIVKA'S  GOD 

NOT  a  word  was  spoken  by  either  Samuel  or 
Eivka,  as  they  walked  through  the  terrible 
glare  of  the  Bowery.  They  did  not  hear 
its  blatant  noises,  nor  were  they  conscious  of  the 
crowds  which  jostled  them,  as  they  mechanically 
went  towards  the  river,  where  at  every  step  squalor 
and  vice,  the  grey  twin  sisters,  met  their  wandering 
daughters  in  scarlet. 

Without  resistance  Eivka  followed  Samuel,  until 
they  came  to  his  house,  in  the  densest  and  oldest  part 
of  the  East-side,  where  the  Ghetto,  Little  Italy,  and 
Old  Ireland  met  in  hopeless  confusion.  There  stood 
the  citadel  of  Samuel's  faith — home,  church,  and 
hospital  in  one.  Those  who  knew  the  place  best, 
knew  not  where  one  began  and  the  other  ended  ;  for, 
here,  no  one  discriminated  against  race  or  faith, 
against  ills  of  body  or  ills  of  soul. 

Here,  Father  Antonius,  loyal  to  his  Church,  ad 
ministered  to  the  living  and  the  dying  the  means  of 
grace  ;  here,  Dr.  Eosnik  healed  and  helped,  asking 
neither  reward  for  his  skill,  nor  wage  for  his  labour. 
Here  Samuel  preached — and  practiced — the  broad 
faith  inspired  in  his  soul  by  a  living  Christ ;  and  here 
he  planned  his  battles  against  the  corruption  which 

320 


EIVKA'S  GOD  321 

begat  vice,  and  against  the  vice  which  brought  forth 
death.  Here,  too,  old  Bill  fervently  preached  and 
sang  the  gospel  of  salvation. 

Samuel  led  Eivka,  strangely  docile,  to  the  very 
door-steps  of  his  home.  Then  they  heard,  floating 
through  an  open  window,  the  deep,  sweet  tones  of  an 
organ,  and  Bill's  voice,  singing  a  hymn  of  which  he 
never  wearied:  "I  am  washed  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lainb."  Samuel  drew  Eivka  towards  the  door ;  but 
the  movement  seemed  to  bring  back  her  old,  rebellious 
self. 

"No,  no!"  she  cried.  "This  is  not  for  me! 
Moskowsky's  and  Peniel!  No,  no!  Musk  and  in 
cense  won't  mix  !  Don't  try  it,  Samuel."  And  she 
drew  him  on. 

"Come,  Eivka,"  he  pleaded;  "come  home  with 
me.  We  need  you  in  this  fight — come,"  and  he 
vainly  tried  to  persuade  her  to  retrace  her  steps. 

"No,  Samuel,  it  is  not  for  me  ;  this  child's  play  of 
being  saved."  And  her  voice  grew  hard.  "  If  it 
really  were  a  fight !  Ah !  Samuel,  if  you  were  Moses 
and  could  plague  Pharaoh  !  Ah  !  if  you  were  Moses, 
I'd  be  Miriam  and  beat  the  tambourine  and  sing, 
while  the  Egyptians  sank  into  the  sea ;  but  this  thing 
of  washing — and  lambs — Baa  !  Baa  !  I've  no  use 
for  it,  I  want  to  fight !  if  I  could  only  fight !  Sam 
uel,  why  can't  you  be  our  Moses?  I'll  be  Miriam  for 
you,  and  we  will  lead  these  wretched  children  of 
Israel  out  of  their  captivity." 


322  THE  MEDIATOR 

1 1  Eivka, ' '  Samuel  replied,  ' '  the  Jews  have  nobody, 
no  Messiah,  to  lead  them  into  a  spiritual  and  moral 
fight.  Eivka,  they  have  no  Christ.  It  is  He  who 
gives  hope  to  these  unfortunates,  and  gives  them 
strength  to  fight  their  battles." 

"Ah,  Samuel,  I  can't  understand  itj  that  a  Jew, 
dead  now  2,000  years,  should  make  Himself  felt  in  the 
Bowery,  down  at  the  very  bottom.  That  He  should 
give  people  strength  nearly  two  thousand  years  after 
His  death,  to  fight  their  sins  !  It's  grand  !  It's  won 
derful  !  But  oh  !  If  He  would  only  give  us  strength 
to  fight  tyrants,  to  roll  off  the  yoke  of  economic  slav 
ery,  to  crush  the  Eosenfelts  and  their  kind  !  There, 
this  Jew  is  helpless,  ah  !  He  is  dead  !  But  other  Jews 
have  thrown  out  the  challenge  to  that  brood  !  Marx 
and  La  Salle  !  Samuel,  if  you  would  lead  us  on  in 
that  fight,  I'd  be  the  Miriam !  I'd  play  the  tam 
bourine  and  sing  :  'I'm  washed  in  the  blood  of  the 
tiger ! '  Oh  !  the  trouble  with  that  Nazarene  is,  He 
was  a  Lamb !  We  need  the  strength  of  lions  and 
tigers  !  All  priests  are  alike,  all  Christians  are  alike, 
all  religious  systems  are  alike.  They  are  here  to  sub 
ject  the  poor  to  the  rich.  It's  not  for  me,  Samuel ! 
I  believe  nothing — nothing — nothing  !  I  don't  be 
lieve  in  anybody  but  you  !  Samuel,  if  I  ever  have  a 
God — oh  !  Samuel,  if  I  ever  have  a  God,  He  will  look 
like  you-^be  like  you  ! " 

Through  her  tense  body  ran  a  tremour,  which  com 
municated  itself  to  Samuel,  She  clung  to  him,  and 


BIVKA'S  GOD  323 

he  could  feel  the  beating  of  her  heart  and  the  heaving 
of  her  bosom. 

"Eivka,"  he  whispered,  "I  can't  be  your  God, 
but  I'll  lead  you  to  God  ;  let  me  lead  you.  Eivka, 
let  me  lead  you  to  my  God  !  There  is  a  God,  I  know 
Him — He  moves  in  my  heart,  He  breathes  His  breath 
into  my  life!  Eivka,  listen  to  me."  He  took  her 
hand  in  his.  "Come  with  me,  let  me  take  you  out 
of  this  dreadful  life  you  are  living.  Let  me  take  you 
home  with  me,  let  me " 

"Where!"  Eivka  interrupted  him. 

"To  Peniel  House,  to  share  the  work  with  me,  to 
share  this  love " 

' '  Love  f  What  love  ?  Whose  love  ? ' '  Eivka  again 
interrupted,  stopping  short ;  (for  they  were  nearing 
the  barber's  home),  and  looking  at  Samuel  with  hun 
gry  eyes. 

"The  Divine  love,  Eivka,  the  saving  love " 

"Ah  !  I  see,  Samuel,"  and  she  caught  her  breath 
sharply.  "You  want  to  save  me.  You  are  very 
kind.  Divine  love  !  Saving  love  !  Faugh  !  Sam 
uel,  even  you  smack  of  theology  and  incense. 

"You  want  to  save  me,  do  you  ?  What  about  the 
twenty  thousand  girls  who  walk  the  streets  of  New 
York — who  are  bought  and  sold — and  sold  and 
bought ;  whom  your  rich  merchants  underpay, — and 
your  rich  merchants'  sons  corrupt  ?  Who  will  save 
them  from  the  Eosenfelts  and  all  that  clan!  You'd 
better  go  to  Eosenfelt,  and  preach  to  him  the  Divine 


324  THE  MEDIATOE 

love.  Go  out  to-morrow,  and  cry  to  the  tyrants  to 
loosen  their  chains,  to  liberate  their  slaves,  to  stop 
dragging  thousands  of  women  in  the  mire  !  Oh ! 
Samuel,  go  out  and  be  my  God  !  Hurl  dynamite  at 
them  and  be  my  Jove  ! " 

"Eivka,  I  am  not  Jove,  nor  his  disciple.  I  have 
no  thunderbolts,  I  have  only  love ;  but  I  have  un 
bound  that  love  from  conventionalities,  and  it's  a 
force,  an  element,  not  a  sentiment " 

"  Samuel !"  Eivka  cried,  "keep  still!  That  is 
very  beautiful  for  Malke,  for  blind  children — I  am 
not  blind — oh  !  but  I  wish  I  were !  Good-night ! 
No,  don't  come  upstairs — your  father  may  be 
awake."  But  Samuel  followed  her. 

They  entered  the  kitchen,  lighted  by  Eivka's  lamp, 
and  Samuel  looked  once  more  into  his  father's  face. 
Uneasily  the  old  man  slept  on  his  uncomfortable  bed. 
Samuel  knelt  by  his  side,  tempted  to  embrace  him. 

"Not  my  son  ! — Such  an  old  age ! — Mine  enemies 
should  live  this  way  ! — You  don't  understand,  Malke, 
he  is  a  traitor  to  his  faith ! — Ach  ! — Elisa  ben 
Abuja ! " 

Samuel's  frame  shook  convulsively.  Gently  press 
ing  his  lips  to  the  old  man's  forehead,  he  was  about 
to  leave  the  room. 

"Eivka,"  Malke,  awake  as  usual,  was  calling. 
"  Eivka,  what  did  you  bring  me  ?  " 

"Nothing,  dearest.  I  left  in  a  hurry.  I  for 
got " 


EIVKA'S  GOD  326 

"  Eivka,"  and  Malke  sat  up  in  alarm.  "  There  is 
some  one  else  in  the  room !  Oh !  It  can't  be 
Samuel!" 

Eivka  quieted  her ;  for  she  feared  that  Abraham 
would  waken. 

"  Samuel,"  Malke  cried  joyously,  "how  glad  I  am 
that  you  have  come  !  How  is  Lady  Love  ?  " 

"Lady  Love  sends  you  much  love,  little  sweet 
heart  !  How  are  you  ?  " 

"Better,  when  you  are  here.  Can't  you  stay? 
Oh,  please  stay,  Samuel !  Stay  and  tell  me  a  story  ; 
I  always  sleep  so  well  when  you  tell  me  a  story. 
Won't  you  stay?" 

"  No,  dear  child,  I  dare  not  stay.  I  wish  I  might ; 
but  I  must  go.  Now  give  me  a  big  hug.  Be  good  to 
my  papa,  Malke ;  be  good  to  him.  Good- night !  " 

Eivka  followed  Samuel  into  the  dark,  little  hall. 

"  Samuel,  that  is  very  beautiful  for  blind  children, 
about  your  Divine  love,  and  your  Lady  Love  !  How 
I  wish  I  were  blind  !  Come  to  me,  Samuel !  Give 
me  one  kiss,  just  one  !  Samuel,  if  I  ever  have  a  God, 
He  will  love  me  as  you  do.  Now  go — go — Samuel — 
go  ! "  And  the  door  closed  quickly  behind  her. 


XXVIII 
THE  FEAST  OF  BROTHERS 

"  "m      IT  ISS  BEUCE  ! "     It  was  the  barber's  ex- 
I  %/ 1     cited  voice  calling,  as  he  waved  a  roll 

•A-  *  -A.  of  note  paper  over  his  head.  He  stepped 
in  among  the  group  of  ardent  workers,  busily  engaged 
in  decorating  the  beautiful  rooms  of  Peniel  House, 
for  a  most  joyous  occasion  ;  its  third  anniversary, 
and  the  dedication  of  an  unusually  well-equipped  and 
commodious  emergency  hospital,  just  completed. 

"Take  care,  take  care!"  A  dozen  feminine 
voices  cried  ;  but  it  was  too  late.  The  barber's  feet 
had  been  caught  in  garlands  of  woodbine  and  clematis, 
which  were  lying  about  the  floor,  and  he  fell  among 
them.  When  he  lifted  himself  from  his  humiliating 
posture,  he  was  greeted  by  loud  laughter,  in  which 
he  recognized  the  voice  of  his  materialistic  antagonist, 
Dr.  Eosnik.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  the  two 
were  good  friends ;  but  when  the  barber  began  to 
read  his  verses  aloud,  the  doctor  would  invariably 
feel  the  poet's  pulse,  and  ask  him  to  show  his 
tongue. 

"Making  verses,"  Dr.  Eosnik  said,  "  is  as  distinct 
a  disease  as  whooping-cough,  and  there  is  no  cure  for 
either." 

326 


THE  FEAST  OF  BEOTHEES  327 

The  doctor  was  on  a  stepladder,  tacking  festoons 
of  vines  across  the  windows,  and  Suszka,  her  face 
beaming,  was  assisting  him.  Pavel's  death,  a  few 
months  previous  to  this  occasion,  had  given  her  the 
long  desired  opportunity  to  come  to  her  "  golden 
boy,"  and  she  made  herself  so  useful  that  Jane 
and  Samuel  often  wondered  how  they  had  carried  on 
the  work  of  Peniel  House  without  her. 

When  Suszka  saw  the  barber  prone  upon  the  floor, 
entangled  in  the  vines  and  flowers  which  she  had 
helped  gather  at  Peniel  Heights,  with  great  expendi 
ture  of  time  and  strength,  she  gave  vent  to  her  feel 
ings  by  her  usual  exclamation,  "  Schma  Jsrael ! " 

"No,  no,  Suszka,"  Dr.  Eosnik  cried,  with  a  grunt 
and  a  chuckle.  "  Don't  say  :  '  Hear,  oh,  Israel ! '  say 
stop  your  ears,  oh,  Israel ;  for  the  barber  is  around 
with  some  poetry." 

The  barber  contemptuously  eyed  his  enemy,  safely 
astride  the  stepladder ;  then,  turning  to  Jane,  said : 
"Miss  Bruce,  I  want  to  read  some  poetry  to-night 
in  honour  of  the  occasion,  my  first  English  poetry. 
I  want  you  to  hear  it  before  the  others,  just  you 
alone.  These  people,  with  ears  of  flesh  and  hearts 
of  stone,  can't  appreciate  poetry.  Won't  you  send 
them  away?" 

At  this,  every  one  crowded  around  the  poet,  and 
after  some  very  mild  urging,  he  mounted  a  window 
seat,  and,  clearing  his  throat,  read  from  his  manu 
script  : 


328  THE  MEDIATOE 

Crushed,  like  the  grapes  in  the  wine-press, 

Torn,  like  the  leaf  from  the  tree, 
Scattered,  like  chaff,  by  the  storm-wind, 

Discouraged,  like  armies  that  flee, — 

"Discouraged  like  armies  of  fleas?"  Dr.  Eosnik 
called  down  from  his  perch.  "  Barber,  that's  very 
good,  very  good ;  only  fleas  are  never  discouraged. 
A  man  who  comes  from  Kottowin  ought  to  know  that." 

"If  you  want  to  make  poetry  for  the  great  feast 
to-night,"  the  barber  retorted  fiercely,  swinging  de 
fiant  arms  at  the  doctor,  so  tantalizingly  out  of  reach 
— "you  may  do  so,  and  I'll  go  back  to  my  cloak - 
making."  He  was  about  to  step  down  from  his  im 
provised  platform ;  but  Jane,  in  pity,  urged  him  to 
ignore  the  doctor,  and  continue  his  reading,  which 
he  did  with  added  emphasis  and  gesture. 

Over  mountains  of  hate  and  derision, 
Through  oceans  of  slanderous  mire, 

Columbia,  our  hope  and  our  refuge, 
We  come  to  thee,  saved  as  by  fire. 

"Fire?"  Dr.  Eosnik  cried,  derisively.  "Don't 
you  mention  fire  to-night,  or  some  of  the  Goyim  will 
say  :  l  How  much  insurance  did  they  get? '  " 

The  barber's  face  grew  crimson  from  anger,  as  he 
cried  :  "You  pessimist !  You  l  fly  in  the  ointment ! ' 
Do  you  think  that,  to-night,  any  one  will  care  what 
we  are  ?  Nobody  will  think  about  the  difference  be 
tween  Jew  and  Gentile — that's  all  swallowed  up  in 
brotherhood." 


THE  FEAST  OF  BBOTHEES  329 

"Don't  get  excited,  barberleben,"  the  doctor  an 
swered,  coolly  tacking  a  garland  over  one  of  the 
windows.  "Let  me  tell  you  something.  Do  you 
know  what  the  mayor  and  the  judges  and  the  rest  of 
the  Gentiles  will  say,  when  they  leave  your  l  Feast 
of  Brothers '  to-night  t " 

"What  they  will  say,"  the  barber  vociferated  at 
the  top  of  his  voice.  "They  will  say:  'the  mil 
lennium  has  come '  ;  '  the  middle  wall  of  sepa 
ration  is  broken  down '  ;  that's  what  they  will 
say." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  they  will  say,"  Dr.  Eosnik 
began,  taking  the  carpet  tacks  from  his  mouth. 
"They  will  say  when  they  are  among  themselves, 
'a  pretty  decent  lot  of  Sheenies,'  tra,  la,  la,  la;" 
and,  with  each  of  his  tantalizing  notes,  he  struck 
the  carpet  tacks  vicious  blows. 

"Oh,  Dr.  Eosnik!  you  don't  mean  that!"  came 
in  tones  of  protest  from  Jane. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Bruce.  I  didn't  mean 
you.  You  are  one  in  a  million — you  are  a  miracle — you 
were  born  without  prejudice.  The  rest  can't  help 
it ;  it's  born  in  them — it's  somewhere  near  the  liver. 
Perhaps,  some  day,  I  may  discover  the  microbe  of 
race-hate,  and  destroy  it.  Until  then,  all  your  settle 
ments  and  <  Feasts  of  Brothers '  will  be  like  a  puff  of 
air.  It's  the  same  with  the  Jews,  Miss  Bruce. 
They  will  go  home  and  say :  '  What  a  fine  lot  of 
Goyim  we  have  met. '  You  take  Samuel's  father,  and 


330  THE  MEDIATOR 

ten  times  ten  thousand  other  Jews ;  this  place  is  an 
eye-sore  to  them — they  would  be  happier  if  you  had 
built  here  a  pork-packing  establishment.  Go  ahead 
with  your  poetry,  barberleben,  that's  in  the  blood  too, 
and  can't  be  cured ;  go  ahead." 

"Poetry  a  disease,  the  divine  fire  a  disease ! "  the 
barber  expostulated,  swinging  himself  back  into  his 
window  seat.  "  Every  thing  is  a  disease  with  you. 
You  materialist,  you  pessimist,  you  rationalist,  you 
burnt-out  Vesuvius,  you — you — you — leave  us  alone  ! 
You're  out  of  your  element  here,  in  this  place  of 
harmony.  If  you  come  to-night,  it  won't  be  a 
'Feast  of  Brothers!'" 

"Yes,  barberleben,  it  will  be  a  'Feast  of 
Brothers '  ;  for,  if  we  could,  we  would  eat  each  other 
up — but  go  ahead  with  your  poetry  !  " 

Jane  waded  through  the  garlands  and  the  flowers 
which  strewed  the  floor,  and  standing  by  the  doctor's 
ladder,  asked:  "Eeally,  doctor,  what  makes  you 
so  skeptical  about  our  work?  Isn't  it  glorious? 
Only  think  what  has  been  accomplished  here.  And 
to-night,  Dr.  Eosnik,  many  of  my  old  friends,  who 
scoffed  at  the  idea  of  my  having  a  share  in  this  work, 
are  coming  to  our  celebration.  You  are  a  pessimist," 
she  said,  shaking  her  finger  at  the  doctor,  who  had 
smiled  in  his  most  sarcastic  manner  while  she  was 
speaking. 

"  That's  all  very  well,  Miss  Bruce  ;  but  it  is  like 
the  barber's  writings — poetry.  When  you  come  to 


THE  FEAST  OF  BEOTHEES  331 

look  into  it,  you  find  it  just  words.  Pardon  me,  Miss 
Bruce,"  and  he  dropped  his  hammer  ;  "  what  would 
your  old  friends  say  if  you  asked  them  to  call  on  us 
and  our  families?  How  would  that  strike  them? 
Ya,  ya,  Fraulein ;  this  is  going  to  be  beautiful 
poetry  to-night ;  but  when  your  l  Feast  of  Brothers ' 
is  over,  it  will  be  the  same  prose  that  it  was  before  " — 
and,  putting  a  handful  of  tacks  into  his  mouth,  the 
doctor  continued  his  task. 

Jane's  face  clouded  ;  for  she  knew  that  the  doctor 
spoke  the  truth.  Her  old  associates  did  ridicule  her 
work,  and  always  looked  askance  when  they  met  any 
of  her  Jewish  friends  at  Peniel  Heights. 

When  Dr.  Eosnik  saw  the  effect  of  his  sharp  words, 
he  regretted  them,  and  said:  "Don't  mind  me, 
Friiulein,  don't  mind  me  ;  I  am  just  an  old  pill-box, 
without  sentiment  or  poetry.  Go  ahead  with  your 
'  Feast  of  Brothers '  !  It  will  be  fine  for  your 
Yankee  friends  to  see  that  there  are  Jews  like  our 
barber,  who  will  waste  their  lives  in  making  poetry  ; 
it  will  be  lovely  for  them  to  see  Jewish  children  who 
have  good  manners  and  talent.  Oy,  oy !  Israel 
has  l  talent  to  burn,'  as  they  say.  Go  on,  Fraulein,  I 
am  with  you  in  your  'Feast  of  Brothers.'  I  will 
wave  the  Star-Spangled  Banner,  I  will  sing  the  new 
Marseillaise  that  you  are  all  practicing" — and,  tak 
ing  one  of  the  flags  which  he  was  about  to  fasten  to 
the  wall,  he  waved  it  wildly ;  while  he  sang  in  a 
quavering  voice : 


332  THE  MEDIATOR 

"  We  are  the  myriads  named  and  nameless, 

From  every  age  and  every  clime, 
Who  in  the  fight  for  freedom,  blameless, 

Won  immortality  in  time. 
One  struggle  more,  supreme  endeavour, 

Then  peace,  not  war,  shall  rule  the  earth, 

And  brotherhood  shall  come  to  birth, 
And  every  chain  be  loosed  forever." 

' l  Now  the  chorus ;  everybody  sing  ! ' '  And,  waving 
his  tack  hammer,  Dr.  Eosnik,  by  his  own  enthusiasm, 
compelled  every  one  in  the  room  to  join  in  the  chorus : 

' '  Ye  mountains  clap  your  hands, 

Exult,  oh  !  sky  and  sea, 
March  on,  march  on, 
The  morning  breaks,  the  dawn  of  liberty." 

"Now,  barber,"  the  doctor  cried  exultingly,  as 
he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  face,  "  don't  you 
think  I  am  in  tune  for  your  '  Feast  of  Brothers '  to 
night  f  Now  go  on  and  give  us  some  more  poetry." 

The  barber,  however,  had  disappeared.  Jane  had 
taken  him  to  her  private  office,  where,  without  inter 
ruption,  he  unburdened  himself  of  his  poetry. 
Still  he  seemed  unhappy  about  something,  and,  after 
much  coaxing  on  Jane's  part,  he  told  his  trouble. 

"Miss  Bruce,  just  one  thing  will  be  lacking  to 
make  the  anniversary  perfect ;  that  is,  Samuel's 
father.  Won't  you  go  after  him  and  bring  him? 
You  alone  can  do  it,  no  one  else  can  do  anything  with 
him ;  he  is  as  stubborn  as  a  mule.  You  can  bring 
him,  I  am  sure.  You  brought  Bivka." 


THE  FEAST  OF  BEOTHEES  333 

"  I  am  not  so  sure,"  Jane  replied,  "  that  I  brought 
Eivka ;  because  I  brought  Yankev  first,  and  the  two 
are  inseparable  now,  and  working  together  beauti 
fully.  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  or  do,  to  bring  Eeb 
Abraham  ;  I  have  tried  so  often  ;  but  I  will  go  now, 
and  make  one  more  effort." 

The  barber's  request  seemed  to  Jane  like  a  response 
to  her  own  thoughts  ;  for  all  the  morning  her  mind 
had  been  with  Samuel,  in  his  unhappiness  because  of 
the  separation  from  his  father. 

Jane  and  Samuel  met  constantly,  for  she  had  taken 
upon  herself  the  supervision  of  many  of  the  activities 
of  Peniel  House,  and  had  watched  with  him  the 
development  of  the  hospital ;  so  that  their  lives 
touched  each  other  at  many  points.  Jane's  life, 
indeed,  centred  in  Samuel,  with  great  pride  in 
his  achievement,  and  with  ever-increasing  love  for 
him. 

Now,  as  her  carriage  took  her  towards  the  barber's 
home,  she  gave  herself  up  to  thoughts  of  Samuel  and 
his  work,  and  all  that  his  having  come  into  her  life 
meant  to  her.  How  he  had  grown,  mentally  and 
spiritually,  during  the  few  years  since  he  was  the  in 
voluntary  guest  in  her  father's  home  ;  how  strong  and 
handsome  his  face  had  become,  and  how  well  he 
carried  himself ;  how  perfectly  he  adapted  himself  to 
all  conditions  and  to  all  people,  and, — that  which 
called  forth  her  greatest  admiration — how  humble  he 
had  remained  in  the  many  successes  which  had 


334  THE  MEDIATOB 

crowned  h,is  efforts.  Praise  had  not  spoiled  him, 
even  as  threats  had  not  affrighted  him  ;  and  of  both 
he  had  received  more  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  common 
mortals. 

When  Jane  reached  the  barber's  home,  she  found 
Reb  Abraham  alone,  bending  over  a  piece  of  parch 
ment.  He  was  writing  upon  it  the  sacred  sentences, 
which  were  to  be  nailed  at  the  doors  of  those  faith 
ful  ones  in  Israel  who  still  remained  loyal  to  the  Eab- 
biuic  teachings. 

He  lifted  his  head  and  looked  at  Jane  indifferently. 
After  she  had  greeted  him,  he  said  :  "  I  am  growing 
blind  in  my  old  days,  Lady  Love  ;  I  didn't  know 
you.  Will  you  forgive  me  ?  How  good  of  you  to 
come  to  see  me.  Oy,  oy,  oy  !  Mine  enemies  should 
have  such  eyes  as  I  have  !  " 

Jane  sat  beside  him,  and,  taking  his  hand  in  hers, 
stroked  it  tenderly.  The  old  man's  face  relaxed,  and 
the  old-time  smile  strove  with  the  furrows  of  sorrow 
and  age. 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  remember  me,  Lady  Love. 
An  old  man,  in  America,  is  like  an  orphan  in  the 
woods  —  nobody  to  talk  to.  Everybody  is  busy,  busy. 
Ach,  ach  !  Mine  enemies  should  have  such  an  old 


"Reb  Abraham,"  Jane  began,  in  German,  which 
she  tried  to  make  as  Yiddish  as  possible,  "  will  you 
do  me  a  great  favour  ?  " 

"I,  to  you,  a  favour?  ts,   ts  !    Wonderful  !  "  he 


THE  FEAST  OF  BEOTHEES  335 

said.  "  That  I  should  do  you  a  favour  !  What  shall 
I  do  for  you,  Lady  Love  f  " 

"Reb  Abraham,  I  want  you  to  come  with  me  to 
see  your  son." 

"I  have  no  son!  I  have  no  son!"  he  re 
plied,  the  tears  trickling  down  his  cheeks. 
"My  son  died  many  years  ago.  OnYom  Kipur  ; 
you  know,  that  is  the  day  when  we  fast  for  our  sins. 
I  don't  know  how  many  years  it  is  now,  I  don't 
count  the  years  any  more ;  it  is  all  one  long  Yom 
Kipur. 

"I  am  fasting  and  praying,  and  praying  and  fast 
ing,  all  the  time ;  only  on  Yom  Kipur, — oy,  oy,  oy, 
Lady  Love — when  the  real  Yom  Kipur  comes,  then  I 
pray  to  die  that  day.  It  is  a  terrible  day,  and  it's 
coming  again,  the  day  after  to-morrow.  Oy,  oy,  oy  ! 
I  hope  I'll  not  live  to  see  that  day ! " 

Jane  pressed  his  hand  in  tender  sympathy,  and 
wiped  away  his  tears ;  while  she  had  difficulty  in 
keeping  back  her  own.  "  Eeb  Abraham,"  she  said, 
"you  know  that  your  son  isn't  dead.  He  is  alive, 
and  everybody  loves  him — you  are  the  only  one  who 
doesn't,  and  he  is  very  unhappy  because  you  don't 
love  him.  Tell  me,  why  won't  you  go  to  see  him,  or 
let  him  come  to  see  you  ?  " 

"Lady  Love,"  the  old  man  said,  withdrawing  his 
hand  from  hers ;  "he  is  baptized,  he  is  a  traitor,  he 
has  brought  shame  and  disgrace  upon  my  gray 
head  ! "  His  voice  grew  harsh  from  anger,  which  90 


336  THE  MEDIATOR 

agitated  him  that  he  coughed,  and  could  not  stop, 
until  Jane  brought  him  a  glass  of  water. 

"Reb  Abraham,"  she  said,  "  to-day  the  great 
men  of  New  York  are  coming  to  see  the  wonderful 
things  which  your  son  has  accomplished.  If  you 
were  there,  you  would  be  proud  of  him,  I  know." 

"Proud?  Oh,  no  !  If  he  were  a  beggar,  I  would 
be  proud  to  share  my  last  crust  with  him  ;  if  he  were 
a  leper,  I  would  be  proud  to  nurse  him  ;  but  a  man 
who  is  baptized,  and  who  baptizes  others,  a  man  who 
will  marry  a  Gentile !  Oy,  oy,  oy  !  Mine  enemies 
should  have  such  a  son  !  " 

"  Who  told  you  he  would  marry  a  Gentile  ?  "  Jane 
asked  ;  while  her  heart  almost  stood  still  from  fear, 
and  she  realized,  as  never  before,  how  great  was  the 
joy  of  living  in  Samuel's  presence,  and  how  empty 
her  life  would  be  without  him. 

"  Of  course,  he  will  marry  a  Gentile,"  the  old  man 
continued  plaintively,  not  noticing  Jane's  question. 
"  Oy,  oy  !  I  hoped  he  would  marry  Eivka  ;  but  she 
is  all  taken  up  with  that  man  Tankev.  Ach,  what  a 
kosher  Jew  he  is !  A  Zionist !  A  lover  of  I;  rael ! 
If  only  my  son  were  like  him  ! " 

Jane  stroked  the  old  man's  forehead,  trying  to 
soothe  him,  and  unable  to  find  words  of  comfort. 

"  You  have  such  a  good  hand,  Lady  Love  ;  so  soft 
and  smooth.  It  feels  like  my  wife's  hand.  When 
my  head  ached  from  study,  she  used  to  sit  by  me  and 
stroke  my  forehead  ;  it  soothed  me  so.  Ach,  ach  ! 


THE  FEAST  OF  BKOTHEES  337 

My  wife,  my  son  !  Do  you  think  my  son  will  marry 
a  Gentile?" 

"Beb  Abraham,"  Jane  replied,  "I  am  sure  that 
your  son  will  not  do  anything  to  displease  you  ;  for  I 
know  that  he  loves  you  very  deeply.  Now  I  must 
go.  How  I  wish  you  would  promise  to  come  to  see 
your  son  to-night." 

11  Never,  while  I  live!"  was  Eeb  Abraham's  re- 

piy- 

When  Jane  reached  Peniel  House,  she  found  her 
corps  of  workers  with  idle  hands,  but  busy  tongues  ; 
because  Eivka  and  Yankev  had  come  in  a  few  mo 
ments  before  and  announced  that  their  marriage  had 
just  taken  place. 

Samuel  came  in,  and  as  he  pressed  Eivka' s  hand 
while  heartily  offering  his  good  wishes,  her  face  was 
overcast  by  a  momentary  cloud  of  pain  ;  but,  when  it 
passed,  she  looked  serene  and  determined. 

"Mazel  tov,"  Dr.  Eosnik  cried,  climbing  down 
from  his  ladder.  ' '  Where  are  you  going  to  live  I  In 
Zion  or  St.  Petersburg  ?  " 

"In  St.  Petersburg,"  Eivka  replied,  proudly. 
"Zion  has  capitulated,  and  Eussia  is  triumphant." 

"  Poor  Zion,  and  poor  Yankev  ! "  the  doctor  said, 
shaking  his  head  dolefully.  "  So  Yankev  is  a  pris 
oner  of  war.  Nu,  God  have  mercy  on  him  ! " 

"No,  doctor,"  Eivka  assured  him,  with  a  fond 
look  at  Yankev.  "He  is  the  victor.  He  has  laid 
siege  for  ever  and  ever  so  many  years.  It's  an  age, 


338  THE  MEDIATOR 

isn't  it,  Yankev,  an  age.  I  am  only  a  woman  after 
all,  and  I  capitulated  ;  but  I  have  made  the  terms  of 
peace.  Next  week  we  sail  for  St.  Petersburg.  We  go 
to  fight  for  a  free  Eussia.  Hurrah,  hurrah  for  a  free 
Eussia  !  "  she  cried  ;  and  all  but  Yankev  joined  her. 

11  Why  don't  you  cheer,  Yankev  ?  " 

"  Eivka,  you  know  why.  My  heart  is  still  sore  for 
Zion,  sore  for  Hertzl.  His  death  was  a  great  blow  to 
me.  Israel  could  not  spare  him  ;  but  that  is  Israel's 
fate.  It  either  breaks  the  heart  of  its  leader,  or  it 
drives  him  over  to  the  enemy.  It  makes  him  either 
a  traitor  or  a  martyr.  Pardon  me,  Samuel.  I  can't 
get  over  it ;  you  ought  to  be  a  captain  of  Zion's  host. 
Ah,  well  !  They  would  break  your  heart. 

"  You  too,  Miss  Bruce.  You  will  either  have  your 
heart  broken,  or  you  will  give  us  up  in  disgust.  See 
them  now,  over  there,  fighting  like  animals  to  get 
their  lunch  !  Bow,  wow,  wow !  They  are  almost 
barking." 

Among  the  flower-beds  of  the  well-shaded  court, 
which  connected  Peniel  House  with  the  emergency 
hospital,  were  hundreds  of  little  children,  celebrat 
ing  the  day  by  a  free  luncheon,  which  Jane's  bounty 
had  provided.  Hundreds  of  other  little  ones,  as  well 
as  children  of  a  larger  growth,  clamoured  for  admis 
sion  ;  so  that  confusion  reigned  until  Jane  went  among 
them,  and,  by  her  gentle  dignity,  brought  order  out 
of  chaos. 

The  afternoon  was  given  over  to  a  neighbourhood 


THE  FEAST  OF  BEOTHEES  339 

reception,  and  in  the  evening,  after  the  dedicatory  ex 
ercises,  Peniel  House  and  the  hospital  were  open  for 
inspection.  Then  followed  a  general  reception,  at 
which  Jane  and  Samuel  received  the  many  guests 
who  had  come  from  all  parts  of  the  city.  Men  and 
women,  of  many  races  and  of  many  faiths,  were 
there — to  congratulate  the  man  upon  his  achieve 
ments,  and  to  do  honour  to  the  woman  who,  by  her 
generosity,  had  made  these  great  things  possible. 

When  everything  was  ended — the  speeches,  the 
waving  of  flags,  the  marching  and  counter-marching 
of  clubs  and  classes,  the  reading  of  the  barber's 
poetry,  and  the  singing  of  stirring  songs — Jane  and 
Samuel  talked  it  all  over — as  they  sat  on  the  veranda, 
overlooking  the  cool,  quiet  court,  now  bathed  in  the 
light  of  the  autumn  moon. 

They  were  weary,  but  excited ;  and  each  communi 
cated  to  the  other  the  tension  of  the  body,  and  the 
greater  tension  of  the  spirit.  Jane  rose  to  go  home  ; 
but  Samuel  took  her  hands  in  his,  detaining  her. 

"  Do  you  remember,  Miss  Bruce, — <  there]  are  two 
points  in  the  adventure  of  the  diver,  one — when,  a 
beggar,  he  prepares  to  plunge'  ?  " — he  stopped  ;  and 
she  finished  the  quotation  for  him,  as  she  had  finished 
it,  years  before. 

u  l  One, — when  a  prince  he  rises  with  his  pearl '  t — 
You  have  risen — Samuel — you  have  risen  high — and 
you  have  a  pearl  of  greatest  price." 

"  No,  Miss  Bruce ;  I  am  still  a  beggar,  still  a  beg- 


340  THE  MEDIATOE 

gar — never  before  so  poor  as  to-night,  when  I  re 
alize  that  all  I  have  and  all  I  am  I  owe  to  you — 
that  my  life,  my  faith,  my  work,  all  come  from  you. 
Ah,  Miss  Bruce  !  I  am  but  a  beggar  to-night ;  a  poor, 
poor  beggar ;  yet  a  bold  one,  for  I  would  ask  more 
from  one  who  has  already  given  me  so  bountifully." 

As  Jane  looked  deep  into  his  eyes,  he  saw  in  hers 
a  light  which  blinded  him.  He  drew  her  close  and 
closer  to  him,  and  she  yielded  herself  to  the  passion 
ate  power  which  went  out  of  him  and  benumbed  her 
senses. 

11  May  I  ask, — Jane?" 

"Ask,  Samuel,  ask,"  she  murmured. 

Then  his  lips  met  hers,  and  he  showered  kisses 
upon  her,  until  he  saw  her  grow  pale,  and  saw  the 
joy  of  her  face  change  into  unutterable  sadness. 

"Don't  ask — my  prince,"  she  whispered,  while 
he  still  held  her.  "  Because  I  can  grant  no  more ! " 

"  Jane  !  "  he  cried  passionately.  "I  will  ask  !  I 
love  you,  love  you  !  Oh,  I  worship  you  !  My  prin 
cess,  your  beggar  asks  one  thing  more — grant  it, 
Jane — my  pearl !  Oh  !  Jane,  I  will  ask  it — you 
shall  not  keep  me  from  asking — be  my  wife  ! "  She 
loosed  herself  from  his  embrace,  and,  taking  his 
hand,  looked  once  more  into  his  eyes  ;  but  now  he 
saw  no  answering  passion  there — only  holy  candle 
light. 

"  It  cannot  be,  Samuel ;  it  cannot  be." 

"Why,  not?"  he  demanded.     Then  recoiling,  as 


THE  FEAST  OF  BROTHERS  341 

if  stung  by  a  sudden  thought,  he  cried  :  "It  isn't — 
it  can't  be — oh  !  Jane — is  it  because  of  my  race — my 
blood?" 

Jane  did  not  answer.  Love  held  her  speech  in 
thrall. 

"It  is  my  race — my  blood!  Oh!  Jane,  Jane, 
Jane  ! "  he  groaned.  "  How  can  that  be  1  My  blood 
is  just  human — just  human,  like  your  own  !  But  I 
understand — I  understand." 

"No,  you  do  not  understand,  Samuel,  you  do  not 
understand.  Your  race  is  not  the  barrier  ;  I  never 
think  of  your  race  as  different  from  my  own.  I  love 
y<w,  yourself — the  man,  Samuel.  I  love  you  so  in 
tensely  that  sometimes  I  fear  I  love  you  more  than  I 
love  my  God.  Oh !  Samuel ;  when  I  pray,  I  pray  to 
you — waking  or  sleeping,  I  see  your  face.  I  did  not 
realize  till  now  how  true  this  is,  I  did  not  realize  how  I 
have  longed  to  know  that  you  love  me ;  but  now  that 
you  have  told  me  all  I  have  unconsciously  waited  to 
hear,  now  that  my  every  heart-beat  responds  to  yours, 
now,  when  nothing  on  earth  seems  worth  while — 
nothing  but  your  precious  love — I  feel  how  impossible 
it  is  forme  to  be  your  wife." 

"But  why,  Jane,  why?  I  will  not  give  you  up  ! 
You  must  be  my  wife  !  "  And  again  he  drew  her  to 
him. 

"  Samuel,"  she  said,  releasing  herself ;  "  one  great 
barrier  already  exists  between  you  and  your  father. 
Do  you  want  to  raise  another  ?  Only  to-day,  he  told 


342  THE  MEDIATOE 

me  of  his  fear  that  you  may  marry  a  Gentile  ;  and  I 
will  never  help  to  widen  the  breach  between  you — 
although  it  breaks  my  heart  to  give  you  up  ! " 

Samuel  stood  as  if  stricken  dumb  by  her  words  ; 
then  he  took  her  hand,  saying  calmly  and  dispassion 
ately  :  1 1  Jane,  I  left  my  father  for  my  faith.  I  have 
done  all  in  my  power  to  be  reconciled  to  him — but  in 
vain.  I  cannot  let  him  come  between  me  and  my 
love.  You  must  not,  shall  not,  give  me  up !  Oh, 
Jane  !  Crown  my  work  by  this  completion — be  my 
wife  ! "  Again  he  drew  her  to  him.  "  Jane,  Jane," 
he  cried,  almost  triumphantly — "our  work's  comple 
tion — my  pearl,  my  crown ! " 

With  a  deep  and  almost  a  bitter  sigh,  Jane  gently 
pushed  him  from  her,  and  looked  long  into  his  face, 
as  if  by  her  solemn  eyes'  more  solemn  light  she  would 
quench  the  fire  of  his  spirit. 

"  Samuel,"  she  said  tenderly,  and  with  suppressed 
emotion,  "  if  I  should  yield  myself  to  your  love  and 
to  mine,  I  might  undo  your  work,  and  not  complete 
it.  People  would  say:  'He  embraced  a  Christian 
woman,  not  the  Christian  faith.'  I  can  see  them, 
hosts  of  them,  passing  this  house,  this  house  of  the 
people,  pointing  their  fingers  at  it  and  leaving  us 
alone  in  our  love.  Samuel,  the  crown  of  your  work 
must  be  won  by  both  of  us,  I  fear,  through  sacrifice 
and  through  self-denial.  Samuel,  my  own,  my  life, 
my  all ;  the  only  crown  for  such  a  work  as  yours  and 
mine  is  one  of  thorns." 


THE  FEAST  OF  BROTHERS  843 

He  knelt  beside  her,  and,  looking  into  her  sad  eyes, 
cried  :  "Jane,  Jane  !  I  have  felt  the  cruel  thorns 
all  my  life.  Listen,  Jane !  I  was  born  on  a  death 
bed  ;  when  I  played  with  a  little  child,  for  whom  I 
cared,  she  wounded  me — I  still  feel  the  pain  of  it  I 
never  could  look  at  the  trees  or  the  birds,  I  could 
have  no  pleasure  which  did  not  bring  me  pain.  You 
don't  know,  oh !  Jane,  you  can't  know — you,  the 
daughter  of  a  favoured  race — the  agony  of  my  child 
hood.  My  father's  love  was  changed  to  hate ;  my 
friends  turned  from  me  ;  the  church  I  loved  and  for 
which  I  sacrificed  my  father,  has  given  me  nothing 
but  thorns — thorns  so  sharp,  that  every  time  I  pray 
I  can  feel  them  pricking  my  soul. 

"  Now  listen,  Jane  !  Are  you  listening  I  When  I 
saw  you  first  on  the  steamer,  in  the  midst  of  my 
agony,  my  eyes  rested  upon  you  without  pain.  "When 
I  woke  out  of  the  second  death  into  which  a  mob  had 
beaten  me,  I  saw  your  face — and  I  saw  it  again,  with 
out  pain — yes,  with  joy  unspeakable. 

"In  all  these  years,  I  have  never  told  you  what  my 
heart  felt,  I  could  not  tell  you  ;  but  I  was  born  again 
in  you.  I  forgot  the  old  life,  the  old  pain,  the  old 
faith  ;  and  I  believed  in  Christ  again,  because  I  be 
lieved  in  you.  Jane,  the  only  earthly  joy  I  have 
ever  known  or  ever  shall  know,  is  the  joy  of  looking 
into  your  eyes."  He  buried  his  face  in  her  out 
stretched  hands,  which  had  grown  cold  ;  for  her  head 
and  her  heart  had  need  of  every  drop  of  life's  blood. 


344  THE  MEDIATOE 

' ( Listen  just  once  more,  Jane.  You  have  given  me 
faith  to  believe  that  here,  in  America,  a  new  race 
could  be  born,  free  from  prejudice  and  human  hate — 
and  I  have  laboured  hard,  buoyed  by  the  splendour 
of  that  thought.  To-night,  under  this  roof,  built  by 
you,  my  one  great  desire  and  hope  seemed  realized — 
the  pain  all  gone,  the  joy  all  rushing  in.  Now  when 

I  ask  for  my  crown,  you  offer  me  one  of  thorns  ! 
Jane,  Jane,"  and  his  voice  grew  bitter  and  harsh. 

II  Oh,  Jane  !  you  would  give  me  a  crown  of  thorns  ! " 
A  silence  followed,  a  decisive  silence  ;  for  a  great 

battle  was  being  fought  in  Jane's  breast.  She  took 
her  cold  hands  from  Samuel's  grasp,  and,  lay  ing  them 
on  his  head,  said  tenderly  :  "  Samuel,  some  of  us 
are  born  for  the  joy  of  wearing  the  thorn- crown ; 
don't  shrink  from  yours.  You  must  prove  yourself 
faithful ;  and  oh,  my  love,"  her  voice  sank  to  a  whis 
per,  "don't  make  me  faithless.  To-night  when  I 
saw  you  at  the  height  of  your  success,  when  I  saw  the 
children  pressing  close  to  you  in  love,  when  I  saw 
those  Jewish  mothers  trusting  to  you  their  sons  and 
daughters,  when  I  saw  the  new  light  in  their  faces 
and  their  faith  and  confidence  in  you — I  felt  with  a 
mighty  pressure  that  no  human  ties  should  hamper 
you  in  your  work.  Samuel,  Samuel,  you  are  or 
dained  to  a  nobler  love  than  mine,  to  a  fatherhood 
sweeter  than  wedlock  could  bring ;  to  be  the  brother 
and  the  father  of  a  new  race,  born  of  your  new  faith. 
Samuel,  my  own  true  love,  I  ordain  you  to  this 


THE  FEAST  OF  BEOTHEES  345 

task,  with  my  heart's  blood.  Promise  to  be  faithful. 
Promise  me  ! " 

"No,"  Samuel  answered,  almost  defiantly,  as  he 
clasped  her  in  his  arms.  u  I  promise  nothing,  noth 
ing,  nothing,  Jane — but  to  love  you  more  than  life. 
Oh,  Jane — Jane — I  am  a  coward  and  no  hero.  I  do 
not  want  the  thorn-crown — the  sacrifice  !  No,  Jane, 
I  promise  nothing — nothing — but  to  love  you  more 
than  life,  more  than  duty.  Oh,  Jane,  leave  me  this 
one  hope,  this  one  joy — promise  me,  my  darling — 
that,  some  day,  you  will  be  my  wife."  Again  he 
drew  her  to  him,  and,  worn  out  by  the  struggle,  she 
yielded  herself  to  his  embrace.  Again  he  showered 
kisses  upon  her,  and  she,  tempted  beyond  her  power 
to  resist,  by  his  overmastering  love,  so  precious 
to  her — was  about  to  surrender — when  confused 
voices  reached  their  ears,  the  ambulance,  with  its 
clanging  bell,  came  rattling  down  the  street,  and  a 
crowd  of  excited  men  ran  into  the  hall,  calling  for 
Samuel. 

Jane  sprang  to  the  door,  and  as  she  opened  it,  a 
bruised  body  was  being  carried  through  the  corridor, 
into  the  new  hospital. 

"Your  duty  calls  you,  Samuel,"  she  said. 

He  looked  dazedly  at  the  bleeding  form  which  the 
men  were  carrying  ;  then  he  looked  again,  more  com- 
prehendingly,  while  a  great  cry  escaped  him  ;  and  all 
through  the  night  his  agonized  moans  rose  and  fell, 
like  the  wind  upon  a  storm-worn  coast. 


346  THE  MEDIATOE 

When  the  gray  light  of  morning  dawned,  Dr. 
Eosnik  gently  disengaged  Samuel's  unconscious  form 
from  the  embrace  in  which  he  still  held  his  stricken 
father. 


XXIX 
THE  DAY  OF  AT-ONE-MENT 

"  r   I    A  ELL  me,  why  did  they  hurt  me  ?    I  did 
nothing  to    them.     I  was  just  walking 
-"-       along— oy,  oy,  oy  !  " 
"Be  quiet,  Eeb  Abraham.     So,  take  a  drink  of 
water.     Why    did    they  hurt  you?    Who  knows? 
They  were  just  a  lot  of  hoodlums,  full  of  evil  and 
malice.     God    only  knows  why  people  hate — God 
knows." 

"  It  is  because  I  am  an  old  Jew,  your  Beverence." 
"Don't  call  me  your  Eeverence,"  the  monk  re 
plied.     "Call  me  brother;  we  are  brothers.     Call 
me  Brother  Antonius." 

"  Ach,  it's  good  to  hear  you  talk  the  old  country 
language  !  It's  a  long  time  since  I  heard  it.  You 
talk  like  the  people  from  the  hills.  I  didn't  know 
that  priests  could  be  as  good  as  you  are.  What 
haven't  you  done  for  me  !  It's  wonderful  !  Ts,  ts, 
ts  !"  And  the  old  man  shook  his  head  in  astonish 
ment.  "  Oy,  but  it's  good  to  hear  you  talk  the  old 
country  language — the  hill  talk — nu — strange,  that 
you  are  a  Pole  ! " 

"Yes,  I  am  a  Pole  from  the  Kottowin  district." 
"  From  Kottowin  ?    Wonderful ! "     And  again  the 
347 


348  THE  MEDIATOR 

old  man  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  from  the  town  of 
Kottowin.  Do  you  hear  any  news  from  there  f  How 
is  the  new  Eabbi  doing  ?  Oy,  I  forget.  What  should 
you  know  about  Eabbis  f  " 

"I  know  all  about  them,  Eeb  Abraham;  and  I 
know  all  about  you." 

"  You  know  me?  I  can't  believe  it.  That  you,  a 
priest,  should  know  me  !  Did  you  know — ah  !  " 
and  the  old  man  groaned.  "Did  you  know  my 
apostate  son!" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Eeb  Abraham ;  I  knew  him  and 
loved  him  as  if  he  were  my  own  son.  Eeb  Abraham, 
I  know  how  you  feel  about  that  son  of  yours ;  but 
I  want  to  tell  you  that  you  ought  to  be  proud  of 
him." 

The  old  man  averted  his  face,  and  tried  to  turn 
towards  the  wall  j  but  every  bone  in  his  body  ached, 
and  he  had  to  remain  as  he  was.  Brother  Antonius 
saw  that  he  shut  his  eyes  tightly,  as  if  to  blind  him 
self  to  the  vision  conjured  by  memories  of  the  past. 
Then,  through  the  closed  lids,  tears  trickled  over 
his  bearded  face. 

"Eeb  Abraham,"  the  monk  began,  "I  am  the 
guilty  man  who  led  your  son  into  the  monastery,  I 
am  the  guilty  man.  I  brought  great  unhappiness  upon 
you,  I  know ;  but  it  is  as  God  wills.  Your  sou  was 
loyal  to  you,  even  to  disobeying  the  cloister  rules  ; 
for  he  was  in  Kottowin  many  a  night,  looking  at  you 
through  your  little  window,  and  piling  the  wood 


THE  DAY  OF  AT-ONE-MENT  349 

which  you  thought  came  there  by  a  miracle.  I  often 
went  with  him.  He  is  a  good — a  noble — man.  Here 
in  New  York,  he  is  like  an  angel  to  the  people." 

"  But  he  is  a  priest,  a  Christian,  and  I  am  a  Jew  ! 
Oy,  oy!" 

11  Eeb  Abraham,  Jew  and  Christian  are  not  as  far 
apart  as  we  think.  The  difference  has  been  made 
greater  and  greater  by  Jew  and  Christian  alike. 
The  man  whose  name  you  will  not  pronounce,  was  a 
Jew,  and  yet  the  founder  of  the  Christian  faith.  All 
we  have,  that  is  worth  living  for  or  dying  for,  we 
owe  to  a  Jew  ;  but  we  have  forgotten — and  we  hated 
you  and  you  hated  us,  and  hated  Him.  You  don't 
understand  me,  I  know  you  don't.  I  wish  you  did. 
Now  let  the  nurse  come  and  give  you  your  medicine. 
I'll  go  away,  if  you  want  me  to." 

Eeb  Abraham's  hand  was  stretched  out  restrain  - 
ingly  ;  so  Brother  Antonius  remained  while,  instead 
of  the  nurse,  Jane  came.  She  had  not  left  the 
hospital  since  Eeb  Abraham  had  been  brought  there 
on  the  night  of  the  celebration. 

"Ach,  ach!  The  Lady  Love!"  The  old  man 
whispered  feebly,  half  in  gladness,  half  in  sorrow. 
"  You  see  I  am  here.  Oy,  oy  !  " 

"How  did  it  all  happen,  Eeb  Abraham?"  Jane 
asked. 

"  You  see,  Lady  Love,  I  came  that  night  to  look 
at  my  son  through  the  window.  I  saw  him.  Oy, 
but  he  is  grand  to  look  at !  Like  a  prince  !  My  eyes 


360  THE  MEDIATOE 

haven't  seen  him  for  many  a  long,  long  year.  Oy,  oy, 
oy  !  Then,  Lady  Love,  when  I  was  going  home,  the 
Hooligans  came  and  gave  me  'mackes.'  Oy,  oy ! 
what  'mackes,'  what  'mackes'  !" 

Jane  seated  herself  by  the  bedside  and  stroked  the 
old  man's  bandaged  head. 

11  What  a  cool  hand  you  have,  Lady  Love.  Like 
my  wife's.  Oy,  oy,  oy  !  My  wife — Yom  Kipur — 
the  Cohanim "  Confusedly  his  mind  wan 
dered  through  the  maze  of  the  years. 

"  My  son,  given  to  me  of  God — where  is  my  son  ?  " 
he  cried.  "  Dead  !  Dead  on  Yom  Kipur  !  " 

Then  he  sat  erect  in  the  bed,  his  gray  beard  sweep 
ing  the  coverlet,  his  eyes  aglow  and  his  fingers  mov 
ing  nervously. 

" How  long  have  I  been  here? " 

"This  is  the  second  day,"  Jane  answered. 

"  Tom  Kipur  !  Oy,  oy,  it's  Yom  Kipur,  and  I  am 
still  alive — I  prayed  to  die  that  day.  Oy,  oy ! 
Where  is  my  bag — my  prayer-book — my  grave- 
clothes?  "  Anxiously  he  looked  about. 

"And  the  ram's  horn — who  will  blow  the  ram's 
horn? 

"  Where  are  the  priests  to  bless  the  people  ?  My 
son  is  dead  !  No  priest  is  left  for  the  congregation 
of  the  children  of  Israel ! " 

The  bag  and  the  ram's  horn  were  brought  by  the 
barber. 

Jane  handed  Eeb  Abraham  the  bag,  and  helped 


THE  DAI  OF  AT-ONE-MENT  351 

him  to  draw  out  its  contents.  When  he  saw  his 
grave-clothes,  he  said : 

"She  made  them,  every  stitch — every  stitch  with 
her  own  hands — my  wife — his  mother.  Yom  Kipur, 
she  died,  Yom  Kipur,  she  died.  Ah  !  Put  it  on 
me." 

Yellow  from  age  the  shroud  was,  and  they  slipped 
it  over  his  head  ;  tying  it  with  the  same  strings  which 
Channah  had  so  often  fastened  for  him. 

' '  Now  the  cap. ' '  They  put  it  on  his  head.  t '  And 
the  book." 

It  was  given  him — a  well  worn  book — a  book  out 
of  which  more  than  one  generation  had  read  its 
prayers.  Eeb  Abraham  turned  to  Father  Antonius. 

"Your  God  won't  care  if  I  read  my  prayers,  will 
He?  He  knew  Hebrew." 

"He  won't  care,  Eeb  Abraham  ;  although  you  are 
a  Jew  and  I  am  a  Christian,  I  read  every  day  the 
Psalms  that  you  are  reading  now." 

"  Wonderful,  wonderful !  You  a  Christian  and  la 
Jew,  and  we  read  the  same  prayers ! ' '  And  he  shook 
his  head  in  amazement. 

"  What  time  is  it,  Brother  Antonius  T  " 

"Ten  o'clock." 

"Oy,  oy  !  I  have  missed  my  morning  prayer! 
Nil,  God  will  forgive.  In  over  seventy  years,  I  have 
not  missed  my  morning  prayers.  He  will  forgive. 
Oy,  oy.  My  eyes  !  I  can't  see  !  " 

He  dropped  the  book  and  his  head  sank  back. 


352  THE  MEDIATOE 

Wearied,  and  exhausted,  he  soon  slept.  When  he 
awoke,  he  felt  nervously  about  for  his  book  ;  but 
when  he  held  it,  he  still  looked  for  something,  mov 
ing  his  hands  restlessly  over  the  covers.  Then  he 
heard  a  familiar  voice. 

"Eeb  Abraham,  how  are  you?"  said  Dr.  Eosnik. 
He  felt  the  old  man's  pulse  and  heart ;  then,  shaking 
his  head,  went  into  the  hall.  In  a  few  moments, 
hasty  steps  were  heard,  the  door  opened,  and  Samuel, 
pale  and  worn,  the  flush  of  fever  on  his  cheeks — 
flung  himself  into  the  room  and  on  to  his  father's  bed. 

"Tateleben!  Tateleben !  Oh,  dear  father!" 
The  two  men  held  each  other  in  a  fond  embrace. 

"Father,  my  own  dear  father,  forgive  me!  Oh, 
forgive  me  !  I  am  your  son,  your  own  son !  Love 
me,  love  me,  as  you  used  to  love  me  ! "  And  the  two 
again  clung  to  each  other. 

"My  son  ! "  the  old  man  said  through  his  tears. 
"  Forgive  your  blind  father  ;  for  now  he  can  see.  I 
can  see  !  I  can  see,  Samuel !"  And  he  stretched 
out  his  arms  ecstatically.  "I  can  see  now  !  Samuel, 
I  can  see  Kottowin — the  Temple — and  Channah,  my 
wife — and  my  son — a  Cohen  !  A  priest !  I  can  see 
the  congregation  !  Samuel,  I  can  see  the  house,  our 
house — and  the  plum  trees — and  the  bridge !  Oy, 
oy  !  The  lilacs  are  in  bloom — but  where  is  the 
creek1?  It's  gone — the  creek  is  gone — thank  God, 
the  creek  is  gone  !  "  .  # 

While  Eeb  Abraham  was  speaking,  Suszka  had 


THE  DAY  OP  AT-ONE-MENT  353 

come  in  and  thrown  herself  beside  the  bed,  crying 
bitterly,  and  repeating  again  and  again  :  "Schma 
Jsrael !  Schma  Jsrael !" 

Eeb  Abraham's  hand  sought  hers,  and  he  said  : 
"  You  are  a  good  woman,  Suszka,  a  kosher  woman. 
Kosher  for  the  infant,  as  the  Rabbi  said.  Kosher — 

kosher "  he  repeated,  while  his  hands  wandered 

over  Suszka' s  face.  Then  he  sank  into  a  stupor; 
while  his  friends  gathered  about  him,  weeping. 

Eivka  and  Yankev,  Malke,  her  sight  restored,  her 
young  face  glowing  from  the  light  within,  Dr.  Eos- 
nik,  struggling  with  the  unwonted  tears,  which  he 
vainly  tried  to  repress  ;  and  the  barber,  who,  despite 
his  heresies,  reverently  held  the  ram's  horn,  for 
which  Eeb  Abraham  had  asked. 

All  day  the  watchers  sat  by  the  bedside,  cheering 
one  another  as  best  they  could  ;  while  the  life  of  Eeb 
Abraham  ebbed  itself  out  to  the  shore  of  the  great  sea. 
Samuel  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  cot,  his  eyes  fondly 
fixed  on  the  worn,  wan  face  of  his  father — his  breast 
torn  by  poignant  grief  and  bitterest  disappointment. 
They  had  done  it  here — here  in  America — in  the  land 
of  friends — in  this  Christian  land — on  the  day  when 
he  thought  his  task  almost  done — the  barriers  broken 
down.  After  all,  Jane  was  right — he  was  born  for 
pain — for  the  thorn-crown. 

Into  his  bitter  musings  came  the  consciousness  that 
Jane's  hand  was  moving  gently  over  his  hot  forehead. 
That  sympathetic  pressure  reminded  him  of  his  still 


354  THE  MEDIATOE 

greater  grief ;  yet  it  soothed  him,  as  if  each  touch 
held  in  it  a  rich  promise.  Samuel  needed  that  com 
forting  touch ;  for  as  he  watched  the  laboured  breath 
ing  of  his  father,  and  knew  that  because  of  unreason 
ing  malice,  his  life  had  been  sacrificed — wild,  blind 
hate  again  took  hold  of  him,  and  he  felt  himself 
praying  for  Samson's  destructive  strength,  that  he 
might  avenge  his  father. 

Less  and  less  potent  became  the  influence  of  Jane's 
presence.  Samuel  had  grown  hopeless  in  his  agony, 
and  all  the  world  seemed  but  a  huge,  black  pall  of 
hate,  against  which  he  longed  to  hurl  himself.  He 
had  forgotten  his  work,  he  had  forgotten  his  love,  he 
had  forgotten  his  God — when  his  father  suddenly 
rallied,  and  looked  around,  his  eyes  bright  from  the 
fire  of  fast-consuming  life. 

11  Come,  my  son.  It  is  time  for  the  great  blessing 
of  the  Cohanim."  With  trembling  fingers,  he  pulled 
his  prayer-mantle  from  the  bag,  and  spread  it  over  his 
son. 

"Now  fold  your  hands,  this  way,  Samuel— this 
way."  He  folded  his  son's  hands.  "  Now  lift  them 
above  your  head ;  "  and  Samuel  obeyed,  as  if  moved 
by  a  mechanical  and  irresistible  force. 

"  Now  say  it  with  me,  the  great  blessing  upon 
Israel." 

By  a  common  impulse,  the  watchers  at  the  bedside 
rose,  while  Samuel  stretched  forth  his  hands,  and  his 
voice  blended  with  that  of  his  father. 


THE  DAY  OF  AT-ONE  MENT  355 

"Thou  hast  commanded  us  to  bless  thy  people, 
Israel." 

The  little  company,  reading  from  the  old  man's 
prayer-book,  responded  :  "  Thou  hast  commanded 
the  priests  to  bless  us.  May  it  be  a  perfect  blessing 
without  aught  of  impediment,  or  of  iniquity,  from 
henceforth  and  forever." 

Father  and  son  again  pronounced  a  blessing: 
"May  He  bless  thee,  the  Eternal  One,  and  preserve 
thee,  may  He  make  His  face  to  shine  upon  thee  and 
be  gracious  unto  thee.  May  He  lift  up  His  face  unto 
thee  and  give  thee  peace." 

Only  Samuel's  voice,  broken  by  grief,  said  the 
priestly  "  Amen." 

Eeb  Abraham  had  fallen  back  upon  his  pillow,  cry 
ing  faintly,  "  The  ram's  horn,  it  is  time  for  the  ram's 
horn  !  The  day  is  nearly  done.  Channah — my  wife 
— my  son " 

Then  the  barber  pressed  the  ram's  horn  to  his  lips, 
and  blew  upon  it — a  wild,  weird  note,  a  note  of  pain 
— Israel's  historic  note — the  note  of  sacrifice.  And 
with  that  sound  Eeb  Abraham's  soul  was  wafted  to 
its  maker. 

****** 

They  had  buried  him  in  the  God's  acre,  far  from 
the  tumult  of  the  city.  Among  strangers,  gentle 
hands  laid  him  to  rest,  and  gentler  hands  had  carried 
his  spirit  to  his  loved  one  across  the  dark  river. 

A  great  concourse  of  people  went  out  with  Sam- 


356  THE  MEDIATOE 

uel — Jews  and  Gentiles,  people  of  many  nation 
alities  and  races — to  help  make  amends  for  the  ancient 
wrong,  perpetrated  anew.  When  their  heads  were 
bowed,  those  who  knew  how  to  pray  asked  of  God 
that  this  might  be  the  last  sacrifice  to  human  hate. 

Slowly  and  reverently,  the  people  turned  away, 
until  only  Jane  and  Samuel  stood  together  beside  the 
new  made  mound.  Silently  they  stood.  They  needed 
no  speech.  Until  the  dusk,  they  lingered ;  then  went 
out  from  the  peace  of  the  dead,  towards  the  tumult  of 
the  living. 

As  they  walked  to  where  Jane's  carriage  waited  to 
take  her  to  Peniel  Heights,  she  watched  Samuel  anx 
iously,  and  when  she  saw  his  eyes  rest  pityingly  upon 
the  crowded  city,  her  face  brightened. 

"  "Where  are  you  going,  Samuel  ? "  she  asked,  as  he 
helped  her  into  the  carriage. 

Turning  his  face  almost  joyfully  towards  the  East, 
he  answered:  "I  am  going  back  to  where  the  next 
day's  duty  awaits  me,  Jane." 

"  May  I  go  with  you,  Samuel  I " 


THE  END 


A  Million  and  a  Half  Sold  of 

RALPH  CONNOR'S  WORKS 


The   DoCtOr.      A  Tale  of  the  Rockies. 

2O5th  thousand.     12mo,          ...  1.50. 

"  The  best  thing  Ralph  Connor  has  done  since  '  The 
Sky  Pilot'  and  pehaps  the  best  that  he  has  ever  done. 
Here  he  is  at  his  strongest  and  best  in  drawing  rugged 
pictures  of  rough  but  true  men."  —  A''.  Y.  Times  Review. 

The  PrOSpeCtOr.  A  Tale  of  the  Crow's  Nest  Pass. 
155th  Thousand.    12mo,  -  -  -          1.50. 

"A  novel  so  intense  that  one  grinds  his  teeth  less  his 
sinew  should  snap  ere  the  strain  is  released."  — 
Chicago  Tribune. 


The  Canyon  story  from  "  The  Sky  Pilot  "  in 
Art  Gift  Book  Series,  beautifully  printed  in  two  colors 
with  many  illustrations  and  marginal  etchings. 
I5th  thousand.    12mo,  art  cover,       -          -      net  .75. 

Glengarry  School  Days.  A  story  ofeariy 

days  in  Glengarry. 

&5fh  thousand.    12mo,  Illustrated,  Cloth,       -       1.25. 

"Gets  a  swing  of  incident  and  danger  that  keep  you 

tearing  away  at  the  pages  till  the  book  is  done."  — 

N.Y.Mail. 

The  Man  from  Glengarry.   ATaieof 

the  Ottawa.  2ioth  thousand.  12mo,  Cloth,  -  1.50 
"A  legitimate  successor  to  'The  Sky  Pilot'  and  'Black 
Rock,'  which  secured  him  swift  fame  that  leaps  to  the 
author  who  strikes  a  new  and  effective  note."  —  The 
Literary  Digest. 

The  Sky  Pilot.  A  Tale  of  the  Foothills.  Illus 
trated  by  Louis  Rhead. 

Sioth  thousand.    12mo,  Cloth,  -          -          1.25. 

"  Ralph  Connor's  'Black  Rock'  was  good,  but  'The 
Sky  Pilot'  is  better.  The  matter  which  he  giyes  us  is 
real  life  ;  virile,  true,  tender,  humorous,  pathetic,  spiri 
tual,  wholesome."  —  The  Outlook. 

Black  Rock.  ATaleoftheSelkirks.  Introduction 
by  George  Adam  Smith.  Illustrated  by  Louis  Rhead. 
550th  thousand.  12mo,  Cloth,  -  -  1.25. 

"  Ralph  Connor  has  gone  into  the  heart  of  the  North 
west  Canadian  mountains  and  has  painted  for  us  a 
picture  of  life  in  the  lumber  and  mining-camps  of  sur 
passing  merit."—  St.  Louis  Globe  Democrat. 


The  Works  of 

NORMAN  DUNCAN 


The  Adventures  of 
Billy  Topsail 

ijth  thousand.  12mo,  Illustrated,  -  1.50. 
It's  a  boy's  book,  but  it's  "a  book  to  be 
chummy  with" — that  includes  everybody. 
"A  marvelously  vivid  and  realistic  narrative. 
There  was  no  need  to  invent  conditions  or 
imagine  situations.  It  is  this  skill  in  por 
traying  actual  conditions  in  Newfoundland 
that  makes  Mr.  Duncan's  work  so  wonder 
ful."— Brooklyn  Eagle. 

Doctor  Luke  of  the  Labrador 

30th  thousand.    12mo,  Cloth,  1.50. 

"  Norman  Duncan  has  fulfilled  all  that  was 
expected  of  him  in  this  story ;  it  established 
him  beyond  question  as  one  of  the  strong  mas 
ters  of  the  present  day." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

Dr.  Grenfell's  Parish 

Fifth  Edition.  Illustrated,  Cloth,  net  1.00. 
"  He  tells  vividly  and  picturesquely  many  of 
the  things  done  by  Dr.  Grenfell  and  his  as 
sociates." — N.  Y.  Sun. 

The  Mother 

A  Novelette  of  New  York  Life. 

Second  Edition.    12mo,  Cloth,        -         1.25. 

de  Luxe, net  2.00. 

"Another  book  quite  unlike  'Dr.  Luke'  in 
environment,  but  very  like  it  in  its  intuitive 
understandings  of  the  natures  of  the  lowly 
and  obscure  .  .  .  holds  the  reader  spell 
bound." — Nashville  American. 


By  ROBERT  E.   KNOWLES 
The  Undertow 

A  Tale  of  Both  Sides  of  the  Sea. 
Cloth,  -  1.50. 

"  The  reader's  interest  is  strongly  held  from 
the  beginning.  What  is  really  the  best  part 
of  the  author's  work  is  that  which  has  to  do 
in  bringing  out  so  finely  and  strongly  the 
sharply  defined  characteristics  of  an  in 
tensely  religious  Scotch,  Canadian-Scotch, 
home.  No  one  could  have  described  it  so 
well  who  had  not  himself  had  some  intimate 
knowledge  of  such  a  home." — Chicago  Even 
ing  Post. 

St.  Cuthbert's 

A  Parish  Romance.  2Oth  thousand. 
Cloth,  -  1.50. 

"  Mr  Knowles  has  a  sense  of  humor  that 
sparkles  in  these  pages,  a  genuine  love  of 
humanity,  gentle  patience  with  its  weakness, 
and  a  fine  recognition  of  its  noble  qualities. 
The  book  is  very  human." — New  York  Mail. 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  praise  to  highly 
this  new  work.  There  is  very  little  indeed 
in  the  ever-growing  literature  of  that  school 
which  can  excel  Mr.  Knowles's  sketches  of 
the  life  and  doings  in  a  Scot's  kirk  and  a 
Scot's  community." — Edinburg  Scotsman. 


Franklin  Welles  Calkins 


The  Wooing  of  Tokala 

An  Intimate  Tale  of  the  Wild  Life  of 
the  American  Indian,  drawn  from 
Camp  and  Trail.  12mo,  Cloth,  1.50. 

"  Well  told,  with  ingenuity  and  cleverness  in 
the  construction  of  the  plot,  and  with  a  sim 
plicity  throughout  that  adds  to  its  charm. 
.  .  Doubly  interesting  by  reason  of  the 
author's  intimate  knowledge  and  truthful 
presentation  of  Indian  Life,  customs  and 
character." — N.  Y,  Times  Saturday  Review. 

Two  Wilderness  Voyagers 

A  True  Story  of  Indian  Life.       1.50. 

"As  realistic  a  romance  of  the  woods  as  ever 
was  penned,  and  it  not  only  reads  as  if  it  were 
absolutely  true,  but  it  blends  with  truth  all 
the  poetry  of  primitiveness  and  all  the  lore  of 
the  natural  Indian." — Brooklyn  Eagle. 

My  Host  the  Enemy 

and  other  Tales  of  the  Northwest. 
Illustrated,  Cloth,  1.50. 

"  The  stories  are  all  far  beyond  the  average 
short  tale  in  construction  and  strength  and 
do  not  lack  in  humor  or  pathos.  There  is 
more  truth  than  sensationalism  in  these  Wild 
West  Tales." — Louisville  Courier  Journal. 


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